


Coala Cuddlers

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Barely acknowledged, Canon deaths, Depression, Derek's POV, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, I didn't do as much with the warlock thing as I meant to, Internalized Biphobia, Knotting, M/M, Mates, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death - Non-Canon, Mpreg, No cheating, Oral Sex, Other, Pack Dynamics, Panic Attacks, Pining, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Stiles/Malia not heavily featured, Suicidal Thoughts, Touch-Starved, Versatile Derek Hale, Versatile Stiles Stilinski, Warlock Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 14:25:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 30,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15439041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: (Corrected and Re-Posted)It really wasn’t a difficult decision. Derek was a werewolf without a pack and the Coala Cuddlers was a company that had a nice little footnote at the bottom stating they were “Werewolf Friendly”. In a world that still thought ‘werewolf’ meant ‘murderer’ that was huge. Werewolves required contact for their own mental and emotional health. A were’ without a pack tended to become anxious and fight with their inner wolf, which led to feral behavior when the inner wolf lashed out. Derek could already feel his wolf clawing angrily at his mind, despite his attempts to make casual contact outside of his nonexistent pack. So, really, he had no choice but to spend his money getting his head straightened out until he could form or join a healthy pack... which he was honestly afraid to do anyway. Repeated death of packmates would do that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First, My Apologies.  
> I initially posted this story without even re-reading let alone editing because I was looking for that kick you get from accomplishing something. My father in law died and it's dredged up the worst in everyone around us, so I'm hella stressed and feeling like shite. I still should have edited the damn story, and as a result it was SO messed up as to basically contain two plots jammed together. That was my reason for pulling it down, and I know it has a few of you frustrated as I've gotten messages regarding, but it was such a big fix that taking it down was the only option.

It really wasn’t a difficult decision. Derek was a werewolf without a pack and the Coala Cuddlers was a company that had a nice little footnote at the bottom stating they were “Werewolf Friendly”. In a world that still thought ‘werewolf’ meant ‘murderer’ that was huge. Werewolves required contact for their own mental and emotional health. A were’ without a pack tended to become anxious and fight with their inner wolf, which led to feral behavior when the inner wolf lashed out. Derek could already feel his wolf clawing angrily at his mind, despite his attempts to make casual contact outside of his nonexistent pack.

Derek needed a pack, but his familial pack was dead and his attempt to find another had failed miserably. After the trauma and abuse he’d suffered Derek was difficult to get close to. Satomi had tried to welcome him into her pack, but he’d been driven off after he failed to click with the other pack members and couldn’t absorb their belief system. He was still living off of his family’s insurance money, but he wanted to get a job and start living his life. The problem was that no one would hire a lone wolf, and without a job he had no guide to meet people, and without meeting people his chances of forming a pack were null. So, really, he had _no_ choice but to spend his money getting his head straightened out until he could form or join a healthy pack... which he was honestly afraid to do anyway. Repeated death of packmates would do that.

Derek dialed the number, took a deep breath to get through his hatred of phones and all things electronic, and listened to the answering chime. He barely registered the voice on the other end, preferring to listen for the prompts rather than the advertisement that started off. He already wanted their services. Why were they still selling?

“ _To hear a list of services, press 1. To hear our legal disclaimer, press 2. If you’re a new cuddle buddy, press 3…”_

Derek hit 3 and then frantically questioned himself. What if cuddle buddy meant employee instead of client?

“ _Please select which gender you are most comfortable cuddling with. For male, press 1. For a female, press 2. For other, press 3.”_

Derek’s head went places and he hit 1. He was technically bisexual but leaned more towards women so men were a safer bet if he wanted to avoid awkward boners.

“ _Please type in your zip code and then hit pound.”_

Derek obliged.

“ _Please hold for the next available representative_.”

“ _Hello, this is Stiles a proud k-“_

“What’s a Stiles?” Derek interrupted, then winced at his own gruff tone. He opened his mouth to force out an apology, but the person on the other end was laughing.

“ _Every time, man, every time. It’s a nickname and I use it as my alias. We don’t use our real names because sometimes people are… uh… well, just don’t stalk us, m’kay?”_

“Okay,” Derek agreed readily, “When can you be here?”

“ _It’s an extra charge to have us come to you- paid in advance- but if you’d like we have a beautiful facility with warm, comfy rooms that-“_

“Werewolf,” Derek grunted.

There was a pause and then Stiles spoke slowly, “ _You’re a werewolf_?”

“Yes. Problem?”

“ _No, just adjusting your potential cuddler list. I’m cool with werewolves, but not everyone is and I want your experience to be soothing and comforting, not awkward with someone smelling off to you. So let’s elaborate. Are you touch starved?”_

Derek closed his eyes a moment and took in a slow breath, letting it out slowly, “Yeah.”

“ _Okay_ ,” The voice spoke softly, “ _I understand. We have schedules booked weeks in advance, but for an emergency like this I’m willing to see you outside of normal hours so you can get to a better place. I can’t speak for our other members, but if you’re willing to see me I can be there today. If you’d prefer a NON-Stiles…”_

“Yes,” Derek replied quickly, “To you coming over, that is.”

“ _Fantastic. What’s your e-mail so I can send you a picture and-“_

“I don’t do e-mail,” Derek replied sharply, “I don’t care what you look like. Just shower first.”

“ _I’ll need your credit card, three referrals-“_

“You said this would be _fast_ ,” Derek growled.

There was a pause and Derek heard the chair on the other end creek as the person shifted position, _“We have to make sure we’re safe, sir.”_

Derek growled angrily, running his hand down his face. He hadn’t realized his claws were out when he did so and ended up dripping blood all over his shirt. Derek swore angrily and glared at his ruined clothes.

“ _Hey, easy,_ ” The voice on the phone soothed, _“We can speed this up, but I can’t just head over to somebody’s house without some kind of assurance. Let’s start with your credit card and your social. We’ll run a background check and make sure you haven’t got any records. In the mean time I’ll take your references down and give them a call.”_

“I haven’t got references. I haven’t got _anyone_ ,” Derek argued, “Why do you think I’m calling?”

“ _Former pack?_ ”

“The first is dead. The second kicked me out. What do you think they’re going to say?”

“ _That you’re dangerous?”_

“What? No!”

“ _Then you can give me their names and numbers,_ ” The young man replied easily, _“I’m not looking for glowing recommendations here, just that you won’t rape and murder me.”_

“Okay,” Derek agreed, “Hang on.”

Derek got his phone book out and read off the names of three of his former packmates. He hoped they’d understand.

“You’ll be discrete, right?” Derek asked, “I mean… this is embarrassing.”

“ _We’ll pretend it’s a job offer_. _We use a different company name to ask questions and stuff, but since it’s a legit part of our company it won’t register as a lie to them._ ”

“Good,” Derek acknowledged, “Then you’ll be here?”

“ _Barring any issues, I can be to you by 10PM depending on your location. So. Credit card, social, and your address.”_

 


	2. Chapter 2

Derek spent a few hours pacing anxiously, worried about what his former packmates might say and what would happen to his life if he couldn’t get someone to his home fast. He had already tried picking women up at bars, but while a quick fuck had kept him going for a few months it wasn’t what he needed. They got uncomfortable when he got clingy and telling them he was a werewolf who needed a puppy pile garnered worse results. He had done other services that provided neutral contact as well, but there was only so much that massages and hair cuts could do. Finally he got the confirmation call and the machine told him Stiles would arrive at his door at approximately 10:15 P.M.

Derek spent a frantic moment cleaning up his home and then showered and waited by the door. When he heard footsteps coming down the hall he slid open his heavy metal loft door just in time to find an anxious young man shaking on the other side. He was tall, thin, had spiky brown hair, was wearing black glasses, and had moles dotting his cheek. He wore loose sweats and a white t-shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and a smidgen of muscles.

“You live in a warehouse,” He stated, voice trembling a bit.

“Come in,” Derek ordered.

“Send my body to my dad,” He stated as he stepped inside, “He likes visual confirmation of fact.”

“I’m not going to murder you,” Derek huffed, “If this job is so dangerous why do you do it?”

“It isn’t,” Stiles replied, “Most of my clients don’t live in _abandoned warehouses_.”

“It’s not abandoned,” Derek gestured around himself, “ _I_ live here, and I live here because it’s _quiet_.”

“Right,” Stiles nodded, still looking around himself anxiously, “People know I’m here.”

Derek huffed, “You talked to my referrals, right? What did they say?”

“That you were loyal and had good work ethics. I asked about temperament and they called me racist and hung up.”

Derek snorted, “How do we do this? The bed’s too intimate, right?”

“Oh, the bed’s fine,” Stiles replied, “So first I have to have you sign our agreement, and I have to emphasize that we are _not_ a prostitution ring. There will be _no_ sex or sexual contact between us whatsoever. Here’s the paper.”

Derek glanced the contract over and signed it without hesitating. Stiles folded it up and put it into a duffle bag and pulled out a laminated page full of images of people snuggled together. Derek’s heart hurt. He’d grown up in an affectionate family where being wrapped around each other was the norm. Satomi’s pack had tried, but he’d stink of emotions and it had repelled them. Derek reached for him, fully intending on carrying him to his bed to cling to him until he ran out of money. However, before he could grab at him the young man slapped his own forehead dramatically, making Derek pause in confusion.

“I completely forgot! We’re supposed to give you this greeting, but I was all shocked by your creepy home. So! Hello, new cuddle buddy. I’ll be your Coala Cuddler-“

“Koala?”

“Yeah, it’s in the name.”

“I assumed it was pronounced Cola.”

“What? Why?”

“It has a C instead of a K. Why don’t you just use K for both?”

“Because I didn’t start the company,” Stiles replied, “So their foibles are not my fault. So. Coala Cuddler. With a C. Where was I?”

“You’ll be my Koala Kuddler…” Derek prompted.

Stiles’ eyes narrowed, “You just mentally used two K’s didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Derek nodded.

Stiles cocked his head to one side and pointed at Derek, “I like you. I’ll be your Coala Cuddler- with a C-“

“Asshole,” Derek chuckled, his face almost hurting from smiling after so long.

“-who is also an asshole, and I’ll be your support through our sessions. Coala Cuddlers- with a C- are your key to platonic affection.”

“Can we move this along?”

“Yeah, so these are our usual positions for cuddling,” Stiles handed him the laminated page, “We usually start with a bit of space with the ‘Buddy Hold’, that’s the one with feet hooked and hands held while we smile at each other.”

“I’ve got eyes,” Derek replied frowning at the sheet, “I’m not shy and I don’t want distance. Do _you_ need to ‘work up’ to stuff?”

“No,” Stiles grinned, “I’ve been at this for a couple of years now. I’m good.”

“Good. The bed’s over there.”

Derek gripped his arm to propel him forward and luckily he went with it, but he still had the duffle bag and it was bound to get in the way.

“Lose the bag.”

“But it’s got my stuff in it,” He replied.

“You need to change?” Derek paused.

“No, it’s my tools,” Stiles opened his bag as Derek got him to the bed and physically lifted him up and put him on the bed. The odd human went with it and just fell into a comfortable cross-legged position, “I have a massager, some barbells to do light exercises, lotions and oils, some incense, and a few light snacks!”

“I’ll feed you, the incense is bad for werewolves, the rest is pointless. Lie down.”

“Kay,” Stiles flopped onto his back with his legs still crossed and Derek climbed up to drag him into a comfortable position, “Ah, I thought so. You like putting me where you want me. Well, you go with it.”

“Don’t others?” Derek asked, clutching him tightly against his belly.

Derek could already feel the wolf easing with the scent of another body near his own. He snuffled into the back of Stiles’ neck and the young man allowed it, not even reeking of discomfort like Satomi’s pack had. It probably helped that he couldn’t smell Derek’s heightened anxiety.

“Nah, lots of people just let me point to a picture and we try a few positions before settling in and talking. There’s a lot of talking, which I’m seriously good at.”

“I get that impression.”

“So,” Stiles turned into his back slightly and smiled softly at Derek, “What happened to your last pack?”

“Why the hell would I tell you that?” Derek growled, “Just shut up and let me do this. My wolf needs it.”

“Yeah, but _you_ do, too. That’s the whole issue, right? You and your wolf have to get your needs in sync.”

“… … …”

“I get the impression you’re not into talking?” Stiles replied hesitantly.

“... … …”

“Right,” Stiles nodded and rolled fully to face Derek, pressing his face into Dere k’s neck.

Derek clutched the younger man as tightly as he could with both arms and a leg thrown over his thighs. Derek breathed in his scent and let his stomach twist anxiously. He still wanted a pack and his wolf was screaming at him to mark this young man as his own. He couldn’t do that. He was paying him for _cuddles_ , as pathetic as that was.

“You know, lots of people do this,” Stiles told him soothingly, turning in his arms to lay with his back facing Derek again.

“Stop moving.”

“My arms will go numb. I have about a dozen regular clients.”

“And do you normally roll all around with them?”

“Yeah, ten different positions are normal for an hourly session.”

“So hold still for six minutes before you burn out,” Derek snarled.

“Okay. So what do you do for a living?”

“I don’t.”

“So you’re rich?”

“…”

“I mean, this is a really nice place,” Stiles stammered, sounding embarrassed, “Family money?”

“…”

“Er… hobbies?”

“Lifting weights and reading.”

“Cool! What are you reading right now?”

“Shut. Up.”

Stiles fell silent and Derek nuzzled into his hair again, content to breathe in his scent. The minutes ticked by and Stiles shifted them about a few times, once commandeering the larger spoon position. Derek let him. He didn’t care _how_ they laid so much as that it happened, but if he had to pick he rather liked the position that had Stiles laying across his torso. His slight weight was a welcome comfort on his lonely body.

A chime went off and Stiles started to squirm away from him. Derek clutched him tighter.

“Another hour.”

“I’m already working overtime,” Stiles pointed out, “And breaking rules to be here.”

“It’s the night before a full moon,” Derek growled, refusing to release him, “If I can’t get my wolf under control I’ll go on a rampage. I _need you_.”

“Yeah, not creepy at all,” Stiles squirmed miserably.

“I’ll talk,” Derek growled.

“Well, that’s nice, but-“

“I’ll pay you double.”

“You’re already paying double,” Stiles tugged away again, starting to smell anxious.

“Triple,” Derek tugged back, “And I’ll do the weird position switch thing whenever you want.”

“You… fine."

Stiles went limp. It wasn’t as if he had a choice. Derek was far stronger than he was and all Stiles’ wriggling had gotten him literally nowhere. Except once Derek relaxed again he started to smell something acrid. Fear. Stiles was afraid of him. Not the creeped out but curious he’d scented before; this was genuine fear and it made Derek snort and wriggle his nose irritably.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He insisted, not able to fight down the whine in his voice as his inner wolf became more distressed.

“You’re holding me hostage and you’re clearly unstable,” Stiles whispered softly, “I’m complying so you don’t hurt me, but I know you can smell I’m freaking out. I can’t help that. If you let me go you won’t have to smell how absolutely fucking terrified I am right now.”

“Look, I’m… I’m not well, but I’m not going to _hurt_ you. I called you for _help_.”

“I know,” Stiles replied, voice shaky, “But I’m not a therapist or whatever and I want to _leave_ and you’re not _letting_ me.”

“Why do you have to leave?” Derek pleaded, “I can pay you. I’m rich.”

“You live in an abandoned warehouse.”

“I like it. I own it. I bought it outright and fixed it up. Another hobby. See? Talking.”

“It smells downstairs.”

“It’s a work in progress. I'm doing it solo so it takes time. I’m not going to hurt you. We can talk. What are _your_ hobbies?”

“I have to pee,” Stiles pleaded.

Derek didn’t hear a lie so he released him, “So go pee. See? Not a hostage.”

Stiles scrambled out of the bed, flailing his arms to steady himself, and grabbed his bag before heading for the open door of Derek’s bathroom.

“Stiles,” Derek called, causing the young man to pause, “Don’t call the police. I won’t hurt you if you do, but I’m asking you not to. Don’t call them. Come back out here. Stay the night. I won’t hurt you. I won’t rape you. I _need_ you. I trust you to go in there, piss, and come back out again. You can trust me, okay?”

“O-okay,” Stiles nodded.

“Then we’ll talk,” Derek agreed, “I’m not good at it, but I’ll try. Okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles nodded and hurried into the bathroom while clutching his bag to his chest.

For a few minutes there was silence. Stiles pissed and then closed the toilet lid and sat on it. Derek could hear the swish of someone swiping on a phone. He might be texting the police, or a friend, or just checking his internet sites. Stiles sniffled and Derek felt awful for making the sweet young man cry.

_I should let him go._

Derek stood up, trying taking a few deep breaths. When Stiles left the bathroom his eyes were lowered and he tilted his head to one side and Derek’s stomach lurched. Derek recognized the behavior of someone used to dealing with werewolf hierarchy. He opened his door.

“Go. I won’t hold you hostage.”

Stiles paused. He was still clutching his bag to his stomach but in slow increments he lowered it and placed it down on the floor.

“You’re really that on edge?”

“Yes. I’ve been alone for… for a _long_ time.”

“Then I’ll stay,” Stiles replied, “But you let me up to stretch when I need to.”

“Sure,” Derek shut the door somewhat hard, “Whatever you need.”

“I need some food or something.”

“Okay,” Derek gestured to the kitchen and then hurried over when Stiles didn’t approach it. He opened his fridge and rattled off the contents to him. Stiles requested a sandwich that Derek made for him while he sat at the island on one of his bar stools.

“I made that,” Derek gestured to the breakfast bar, “From scratch. I- uh- I like making things.”

“Your downstairs still smells,” Stiles told him, “I almost bailed.”

“Why didn’t you?” Derek snorted.

“Something in your voice,” Stiles admitted, “I’ve heard wolves sound like that before. A sort of… whine in the back of the throat.”

“I don’t _whine_ ,” Derek growled.

Stiles lifted up his phone and tapped a few buttons. Derek’s voice played out from the phone. _I don’t_ _ **whine**_ _._ Derek frowned at the strange sound. A reedy, pleading sound in the back of his throat on the vowels that had Derek’s hackles raising. If he’d heard that sound from another werewolf he’d have snatched the creature up, carried them home, wrapped them in a blanket, and petted them until they felt safe again. No wonder people who met him recognized that he was a lone wolf immediately. Stiles finished his sandwich in silence, downed a glass of water, took a deep breath, and headed for the bed again. Derek followed like the kicked puppy he was.

Stiles sat on the bed, still smelling frightened but not trying to leave anymore. Derek approached him slowly and let out a slow breath as he sat down beside him. His arms were itching to wrap around the young man again, but he had to give him something to take the fear scent away. He had to open up and let the human know that he wasn’t a cold, unfeeling monster who just needed contact so that he could go back to being a loner again afterwards.

“My first pack was murdered,” Derek told him, “They were my familial pack. I probably would have left on my own eventually to form my own, but to lose them the way I did… burned to death…”

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles breathed, taking Derek’s hand in his and turning a bit to face him. His scent had less fear, though now it held a bit of sorrow. He seemed to be relating to Derek, so perhaps he had lost someone as well.”

“This helps?” Derek replied.

“It makes you more human… or rather, less scary werewolf and more relatable werewolf.”

“Okay,” Derek nodded and gave Stiles’ hand a tug. The human shifted to straddle Derek’s thighs, careful not to touch their groins together, “My second pack was my own. I inherited my mother’s alpha power after she and her chosen heir died in the fire my… my ex-girlfriend set. So of course I tried to start my own pack. It's instinct. I was alone and it was a definitive _need_. I turned some teenagers in my grade who needed help; one with seizures, another in an abusive home, a third who was the only black guy in town. They were alone and needed me. I thought I could help them but… I… I got them killed.”

Stiles’ put his head on Derek’s shoulder, arms around his neck, holding him tightly as the werewolf took a few slow, steady breaths. When Derek spoke again it was with a choked voice that he was absolutely humiliated by, but if it kept Stiles here than he’d keep talking. Someone who drove off even _paid_ puppy piles clearly didn’t deserve dignity.

“This group called the ‘Alpha Pack’ showed up. They told me I could be in a better, bigger, stronger pack. All I had to do was murder my own pack,” Stiles stiffened in Derek’s arms but he soothed him with a slow rub to the human’s back, “I refused, of course. They were my _pack_. I can’t even imagine how they did that to their own. Refusal wasn’t an option, though. They murdered two of my pack in front of me and I… I couldn’t stop them. Isaac survived and I sent him away. I couldn’t bear to lose another packmate. He’s still with Satomi’s pack- the references I gave you- but I couldn’t fit in. They couldn’t stand the way I smell.”

“You smell good to me,” Stiles spoke softly.

“You’re not a werewolf,” Derek replied miserably, “I stink to my own kind. I smell like misery and anger and hate. They can’t sleep around me.”

“Lucky them. I’m not supposed to sleep and I’m _exhausted_.”

Derek snorted, “We’re already breaking rules. Sleep. I’ve already promised I won’t hurt you and now you know my life story.”

“Still don’t totally trust you,” Stiles mumbled, “It’s not that easy.”

 

“I'm drowning here, Stiles,” Derek pleaded, “Paralyzed by my past in a world that is completely cold and hateful. I don't trust. I just _need_. Can you trust that I need you?”

 

“I'll try,” Stiles replied, “But don't expect miracles.”

Derek shifted back on the bed and laid down on his back, letting Stiles stretch out across him. The werewolf kept rubbing the young man’s back until he began to drift off. Stiles tried to keep himself awake by switching positions but eventually he fell asleep anyway. Derek lay awake, arms and legs wrapped around the slender human. He was fighting sleep as well in order to enjoy the company of another person for as long as possible, but eventually he couldn’t keep himself alert any longer and sleep overcame him.

Derek woke to find Stiles squirming free of the bed. He made an unconscious grab for him, but when he yelped Derek released him.

“Wha ya doin?” Derek slurred sleepily.

“Bathroom,” Stiles stammered, “You said I could.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed and rolled over to stretch.

Stiles returned from the bathroom and began gathering his stuff in silence. Derek pushed himself upright and gave him a worried frown. His attitude felt different. Calm, but also a bit... angry? It was a complicated scent that he couldn't quite fathom.

“I’m sorry about last night. I wasn’t well,” Derek replied.

“I know,” Stiles replied tersely.

“I didn’t hurt you,” Derek reminded.

“No, you didn’t,” Stiles allowed.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know,” Stiles sighed, straightening up with his bag over his shoulder, “I have to go. I got a text... I really gotta go this time.”

“Right,” Derek nodded, “I only paid for an hour in advance. I have to pay you the rest.”

“Yeah, I have a card swipe here…” Stiles paused and dug around in his bag again while Derek stood up and fetched his card.

Derek approached him slowly just in case he was still nervous, but Stiles just seemed resigned and tired. He plugged a white square into his cell phone and took Derek’s card, swiping it through a slit in the square. Derek’s eyebrows shot up at the technology.

“That’s neat,” He told Stiles as he accepted his card back and signed his phone with his finger, “Technology is pretty amazing. I’m more into books.”

To his surprise, Stiles didn’t reply. Instead he got himself together and headed for the door. Derek’s stomach sank. He’d driven someone off again, and this one had been _paid_ to be around him. How awful was he that even a pro- platonic or otherwise- couldn’t tolerate his presence? Derek was beginning to realize that he’d have nothing but one night stands and paid massages for the rest of his life. Perhaps not even that if he was so on edge that he _held someone hostage._ He'd end up making a mistake like he had with Stiles and they'd throw him out. He might even get arrested if he couldn't get a handle on himself. He’d definitely be banned from this particular company after the shit he’d pulled. He’d have to find a different cuddle company, because there was no way he could continue to live without contact the way he had thus far. He’d go insane. Derek wasn’t even sure that he hadn’t already gone completely starkers, despite his attempts with casual contact and quickies outside of bars.

“You’ll…” Stiles hesitated with his hand on the door, “You’ll be okay, right?”

“My wolf’s pretty calm now,” Derek replied, “It will hold me over for the full moon at least.”

Stiles nodded and walked through the door, leaving Derek to his empty loft and continued pack-less status.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The full moon was still torture. Derek’s wolf howled and howled, both inside his loft and out. He stopped himself from rampaging but he couldn’t contain his cries for a pack. If it weren’t for the Alpha Pack Derek would try again; he’d turn someone and make himself a cozy family. Boyd and Erica had paid the ultimate price for trusting Derek and he was sick with that fact. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Derek woke up the next morning miserable and sore. His body was aching from having to restrain his inner wolf the entire night. He woke up and stood in the shower until he ran out of hot water and then laid himself down on his bed. He wanted to sleep but his inner wolf was distressed and he found himself whining miserably in bed.

The proximity alarm went off and Derek struggled to his feet and checked it. A part of him was half hoping for the Alpha Packs return after hearing his cries for pack. If he could die fighting the monsters who took his pack from him than at least he’d have gone down with dignity. Instead a familiar dotted face greeted his view. Derek hit the disengage and the door unlocked with a loud buzz, letting Stiles through. He waited in confusion, sniffing at his pits to make sure he was at least somewhat presentable. The second door was tapped on and Derek slid it open to reveal the young man himself.

“Hey,” Stiles stated, stepping past Derek and putting a super man duffle on the coffee table, “I thought we’d try some couple’s yoga today since you like to work out and I’m a humanoid fidget spinner on crack.”

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked.

Stiles raised both eyebrows in surprise but kept unpacking a couple of rolled up mats and some CD’s, “You want me to leave?”

“Well, no,” Derek replied.

“Okay,” Stiles agreed, “Short answer: your payments go through my job and I get a cut. Basically I’m paying for protection. An agency means I’m legit. People know where I am and that if I’m murdered I’ll be missed. The rules are clear-cut that sex is off the table and shit. The other night I broke too many rules with you and now I’m jobless. Your fees were, like, so huge they were basically a severance package. So I figure if you’ve got that kind of money to throw around and you don’t want to start a pack than I’m your man. So now I’m your personal Coala… with a ‘C’ because it bothers you and I’m kind of an asshole.”

“Isn’t that the same as a pack?” Derek huffed, “The Alpha Pack will-“

“Continue rotting in their graves,” Stiles stated sharply, “Didn’t you wonder why I know how to deal with freaking out werewolves without freaking out myself? I’m in a pack. My alpha’s a bad ass… and also sort of a giant dork, but that’s whatever. Point is, he faced off with the Alpha Pack a year ago and we killed two of their members, claimed two others, and chased off the rest of them. They won’t be coming back for more.”

Derek gaped at him, “They were obscenely strong! Who the fuck is your alpha?!”

“McCall pack,” Stiles held up three fingers as if he were a boy scout, “Troop WTF. Scott’s this weirdo freak of nature or something. He’s crazy strong for an alpha and anyone he turns is strong as fuck, too. That and some seriously amazing luck- and my smart as hell planning- turned the tables on those fuckers. So. Cuddle?”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded, and Stiles started unrolling one of the yoga mats.

Derek was... torn. The Alpha Pack were the reason he'd been telling himself he couldn't have a pack this whole time. They were gone, which just meant that Derek was alone with his guilt and poor mental health. If he got help, and Stiles kept him calm throughout it, would he be able to be in a pack? Would he be accepted? The idea of curling up in a puppy pile with packmates again had him whining softly in the back of his throat. He could have that again... maybe.

Derek joined the human on the floor, untying the second mat and spreading it out as well. Stiles pushed the two mats together and fastened them with a few Velcro straps on the underside. He grinned and nodded eagerly before holding up a CD.

“I couldn’t find this album on the playstore so I just brought my CD over. Tell me you have a player?”

Derek nodded and headed for his closet to find his player. It was old but it would still work. A few minutes later and a soothing set of sounds played forth from the device. It combined clarinets with some plucky string instrument and the sounds of nature. It was actually fairly soothing for a reproduction of animal noises on a loop and Derek followed Stiles’ instructions as he softly told him where to stand. They were both standing on one end of a mat and facing the other on a diagonal.

“So. First we stretch. Up hiiiigh, and let your hands drift slowly down, and lower until they cross in front of you. Give yourself a hug-“

“I’d rather-“

“Sh,” Stiles stated sharply, “Soon.”

They moved independently for a few moves, stretching until Stiles’ muscles were relaxed before moving together. Derek was instructed to help bend Stiles’ nubile body into various positions. Unlike the night before, this was almost a dance and Stiles was on display rather than simply snuggled up against him. Derek was also significantly less distressed. The combination led to some rather awkward urges flowing through his body, but he pushed them down. He couldn’t alienate his one ticket back to sanity. Stiles was obviously loving doing yoga and Derek was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t awful. When their session was done Stiles asked to use his shower because somehow he’d worked up a sweat doing stretches. Humans were _so_ fragile! Derek left him to it and when the human re-emerged Derek had started his own workout.

“That yoga is a nice warm up,” Derek stated as he bench-pressed 330 pounds of weight.

“Damn!” Stiles gaped at him, “See, this is why Scott’s all scrawny. He doesn’t bench-press large humans before breakfast every day.”

“Not all werewolves have great physiques,” Derek informed him as he put the bar in the cradle, “It depends on how you treat your body.”

“Nice mansplain,” Stiles snorted, sitting down on Derek’s bed in a fresh pair of clothes, “So, what’s your schedule like today? After the solo extreme weightlifting contest.”

Derek stood up and picked up a curling weight, “Well, I have to go to the bank to sort out your payroll, obviously. I’m guessing you can’t use that plug in thingy anymore.”

“I can,” Stiles replied, “I just have to open a new account and put myself down as a sole proprietor. I can link it to that account.”

Derek nodded, “We should discuss your pay as well. What was your cut at the stupidly named company?”

“They charged thirty an hour but I only took home twenty,” Stiles replied, “Still the best paying job _ever_.”

“Huh,” Derek frowned, “How about salary instead of hourly?”

“Why?” Stiles wondered.

“Because there may be times we don’t do this and once I’m stable I won’t need you daily,” Derek pointed out.

“ _Will_ you end up stable?” Stiles wondered, “I mean, in the end you’re craving a _pack_ , not one broke college student.”

“Mm, good point,” Derek considered, “And you go to college? Then you’ll be busy at times, too. Fine. Hourly, but this is a lot more personal and I want you invested. Thirty an hour and I’ll have to get you insurance somehow.”

“Sweet! There are private plans you can buy, but I get insurance through my dad still,” Stiles replied with a grin, kicking his feet against Derek’s bed frame, “If this goes on up to the point his cancels than we'll totally go that route.”

“Anything else, then?” Derek asked.

“Well,” Stiles considered, “You should probably meet my alpha at some point, if only because he’s kind of freaked out by your behavior and it will make him feel better.”

“You told him?” Derek growled irritably.

“Well, yeah,” Stiles scoffed, “I was in your bathroom crying like a little bitch. It kind of came up.”

“You didn’t call him.”

“No, but I texted him. He was going to come over and rescue me but I didn’t want him interfering because of… well, I knew you really needed it and I thought you might be harmless. I set up a text on time delay so that it would send him your address if you didn’t let me go in the morning.”

“Great,” Derek huffed, “So he thinks I’m crazy.”

“Mm, to be fair I do, too,” Stiles pointed out with a false comforting smile.

“Than why are you _here_?” Derek growled irritably.

“Because you need someone, are rich, cost me my job, and I’m poor as fuck,” Stiles replied, “So sort of ¼ pity and the rest practicality.”

“Right,” Derek nodded, “Great. 130Ibs of sarcasm, fragile flesh and bone has taken pity on me.”

“Don’t expect ego boosts from me when you’re sporting those muscles and that jaw line,” Stiles snorted.

Derek scoffed and gestured at Stiles, “Well, clearly good looks aren’t everything or you’d be as rich as I am.”

Stiles’ eyebrows went up, “What? Really? Did you just _complement me_?”

“Well, I have to keep you around,” Derek replied, “And money and holding you captive will only get me so far.”

Stiles cackled. He didn’t laugh, he _cackled_ , and it was ridiculously endearing. Derek couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face and when Stiles saw it his own lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Dude, you need about twenty years of therapy, but you know what? You’re gonna be okay. I fix _everything_. Just ask my alpha.”

Derek snorted and rolled his eyes, but the smile remained and that was a huge improvement in his life already. Derek finished a few sets while Stiles ate a bowl of cereal and watched him closely. Derek could smell lazy arousal flowing off of Stiles, but knew full well that scent didn’t mean consent, so he wasn’t going to act on Stiles’ interest in him. He did go take a _very_ cold shower. If Stiles initiated sex he’d dive in head first- assuming that it wouldn’t hurt their odd agreement- but for now he wasn’t going to cause problems between them. Sex would be complicated and Derek had already crossed lines with Stiles. Besides, he was his _boss_ now.

“So when do I meet your alpha?” Derek asked as he stepped out of the shower in just a towel. He picked up his clothing options and was pleasantly surprised to find Stiles wasn’t lusting after him as much now.

“We can do that after we do the bank stuff,” Stiles replied, “How’s your anxiety?”

Derek snorted, “I’m not _anxious_.”

“Yeah, you are,” Stiles countered, “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Your needs weren’t being met. So let me meet them. _Are you good_?”

Derek huffed in frustration and admitted he wasn’t with a curt ‘no’, so Stiles put his phone down and patted the side of the bed. Derek hurried to duck behind a pole and put on a pair of boxers before heading over and wrapping his arms around the human. He pulled the slender man against himself and held him tightly while snuffling along his neck and shoulder. Stiles giggled at the unintentional tickling and swore about Derek’s stubble while the alpha grinned wickedly. He dug his fingers into Stiles’ side and the young man howled like a werefox. Derek laughed as the young man flailed, slapping and kicking him unintentionally as he writhed in Derek’s arms. Derek didn’t desist until the young man shrieked for him to stop, finally simply holding him while he shook with laughter and struggled to catch his breath.

“Holy shit, you asshole!” Stiles laughed, reaching back to swat at Derek’s hip, “You suck.”

“Mm,” Derek replied, chuckling a bit as he resisted the urge to lick at his neck. He could _not_ mark Stiles as pack. He already had an alpha. He wasn’t stealing the beta from his alpha- especially not an alpha who took on the alpha pack. He’d be dead within a week.

“I gotta pee, let me up,” Stiles smacked Derek’s hip and the alpha let him go.

Stiles returned quickly, waggling his finger to scold Derek away from tickling him again. He took up a different position this time with one leg thrown over Derek’s hips. His head was tucked under Derek’s chin, nuzzling up into his neck with his hands crossed over his own chest. They were pressed tightly together with Stiles’ arms creating a bit of a space between them. Derek rubbed his hand up and down his arm while Stiles used his other arm for a pillow.

“We’ll go to the bank tomorrow,” Derek decided.

Stiles nodded, “Give it another day and you’ll be more stable. No rush, okay? I know you’re good for it… at least, I hope you are.”

“I am,” Derek snorted.

“I’m still weirded out about the state of your first floor.”

“When the alpha pack attacked I had to flood it. We were going to try to electrocute them, but they caught the scent of electricity before they got close enough to be fried and cut the power to the whole building. It got moldy downstairs and it’s going to take a professional team coming in to fix it. I’ll call them tomorrow after we set up your payroll.”

“You… you don’t have to…” Stiles hesitated, squirming a bit.

Derek held him tightly, “I want to. I haven’t had a reason, but with you helping me get my head together I can start planning for the future.”

“That’s great,” Stiles smiled and then started to shift again. Derek gripped him tightly and he sighed, “Let me roll around. I’ll get all sore.”

“Sorry,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles shifted to his back and lined his side up with Derek’s front. He pulled Derek’s thigh over his hips and pulled out his phone: “I’m gonna let Scott know I’m safe and stuff.”

“Okay,” Derek agreed.

It was a bit boring sitting there together so eventually Stiles went online with his phone and Derek took to a book. They ended up in an odd position that was definitely not on Stiles’ sheet of options. Derek was on his front reading a book while Stiles lay on his front on top of Derek, using his shoulders as a support while he played games on his phone. His elbows were digging into Derek, but he could tolerate it. They stayed that way for hours, broke for lunch, and then ended up sleeping straight through until three in the morning when Derek woke up to Stiles moaning in agony.

“Oh my gods, my neck!” Stiles wailed.

“The fuck?” Derek growled.

“Oh my gods, everything hurts,” Stiles whined, rolling away from Derek.

Derek sat up and let out a sigh of relief. He was no longer experiencing a desperate urge to wrap himself around Stiles like a limpet. It was as if the tightly wound ropes of distress, anxiety, and loneliness had been unwound from around his chest, leaving him to breathe easily. That being said the young man was wincing and shifting about and Derek was worried about him.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked.

“We slept for _twelve hours_ , that’s what!”

“So?” Derek asked. At the height of his depression that had been a light nap.

“So humans aren’t built for that! I can feel my kidneys! I need fluids!”

Derek got up to fetch the whining human water and watched as he stood and stretched, trying the yoga pose he’d done with ease the day before only to stop halfway there.

“I hate everything,” Stiles told his feet.

“I’ll take you for a massage,” Derek told him, “I have a standing appointing with a masseuse that I missed when you showed up yesterday. She’s probably worried about me. I'll call and see if she can fit you in today.”

“You… you have a _daily_ appointment with masseuse?” Stiles gave him an incredulous look.

“Well, yeah,” Derek nodded, “Technically seven of them, because it would draw too much attention to see the same one each day. I would say to see my usual today, but I know that Josh won't alter an appointment so I'll try yesterday's. How do you think I kept sane for 8 years without a pack? Massages, one night stands, and the occasional street fight to keep my blood flowing. Never considered yoga.”

“It’s usually an individual thing anyway,” Stiles replied, “Although you _could_ have done dance classes.”

Derek did a graceful pirouette, “I did. Six different styles including ballet. I’m especially good at ballet.”

“You are _not!”_ Stiles gaped while Derek blushed, “That’s so fucking cute and as soon as I can stand upright without crying we’re totally dancing.”

“I’ll run you a bath for now,” Derek chuckled, “They don't open until 9.”

XXX

Stiles was moaning softly as the masseuse worked him over. His eyes were closed and a smirk on his face. Derek was in the room content to watch. The masseuse was sad she was losing her regular client but happy to give him tips so he could rub Stiles down as well. They’d never been close, which hadn't helped with his pack urges. Derek didn’t talk much and she was just trying to get paid, but now that Derek was leaning over her shoulder she was swooning a bit over what she assumed was young love. Derek was milking it up as she showed him how much pressure to use to rub his shoulders.

“It’s difficult,” Derek told her, “He’s so fucking fragile, you know?”

“Dude, right here,” Stiles laughed lightly.

“Well, you are,” Derek replied, “I could break your thigh bone with my pinky.”

“You’re so good for my self esteem,” Stiles chuckled.

“Just feel for the muscles beneath his baby fat-“ Tony assured Derek.

“ _Right here!_ ” Stiles whined.

“-And be aware of the bones beneath. Here, let me show you how much pressure.”

Derek’s hands moved over Stiles’ body, slick with oil as the masseuse showed him how to soothe and comfort his fragile human packmate.

_Packmate? Shit!_

Derek jerked his hands away and nodded for Tony to continue Stiles’ massage. The young woman continued to work on Stiles’ content body with a firm, but gentle hand. Finally Stiles was a pile of goo and the appointment was over. Stiles used the facility’s shower while Derek purchased some oil from the lobby to use on him another time.

They left the parlor at eleven thirty and headed over to a café for lunch. Derek paid for Stiles who ate a surprising amount of food for a human before declaring himself full and yawning dramatically. Derek snorted at him and wondered aloud how he managed to stay skinny. Stiles kicked him.

After lunch they went to the bank and set up Stiles’ sole proprietorship. Derek took him to his own bank so that he could immediately deposit money into the account. Stiles wanted to know what his bank balance was so Derek showed him while the bank teller looked more and more uncomfortable.

“See? Rich,” Derek told him, “You won’t starve as my employee.”

“Sweet!” Stiles gaped, “How are you maintaining this?”

“Interest,” Derek replied, “There’s very little in my checking account. I have a high yield savings account for repairs, stock plans, and a CD that drops interest into my checking account monthly. If I’m smart about my money I can live off of this for the rest of my life.”

“Aaand if you support my poor ass?” Stiles frowned.

Derek snorted, “I’ll manage.”

Stiles seemed fine with his response and headed home after a very tight hug. He wouldn’t let Derek drop him off. He said he had to have some level of privacy and Derek rather thought he’d put himself out enough.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles had school four days a week, but due to his previous job he’d made sure that his evenings were free. Cuddler’s worked from 3pm till 9pm, the times when most people were off from work. Now Stiles’ time each day belonged to Derek. He showed up with food most days and they’d eat together with Stiles lounging on the couch. He usually draped himself over Derek in some odd way so Derek had been spending his time away from Stiles learning massage techniques from books. He rubbed Stiles’ feet while they sat down together and enjoyed his contented moans.

After their early dinner they’d play video games per Stiles’ request. Derek had hated it at first, but with Stiles sitting in his lap, often reeking of lust, it hadn’t been a hardship. Then he’d invigorated Derek’s competitive nature and he really got into it. After games was a show on the internet that Stiles- once again- forced him to watch. It was some strange space cowboy thing and Derek immediately loved it but refused to show that he did because if Stiles found out he’d never let it go.

Lastly was bedtime, but sadly Stiles didn’t spend the night over again so that lasted a full hour. They laid in bed together and Derek held him tightly, occasionally letting Stiles shift so a limb wouldn’t go numb. Every night before he left Stiles asked Derek if he was ready to meet Scott, his alpha, but every night Derek pushed it out a bit further. He didn't want to meet another Alpha while he was weak.

Derek recorded himself talking a few days into their arrangement. The whine in his voice was gone, but he still felt tense whenever Stiles was away. He needed to recover from his lengthy separation from pack comforts and Derek’s sessions with Stiles were slowly helping. To commemorate his ability to function for more than a few seconds at a time without freaking out, he bought a foozball table to kick Stiles’ ass with. Predictably he loved it, shouting and doing victory dances whenever he made a shot. It was adorable and Derek pulled him into his arms again and held him tightly against himself until Stiles realized something was wrong.

“Hey, hey,” Stiles nudged at him, “Let me up for air.”

Derek let him shift his head up and he wrapped his arms around Derek as well.

“You okay?” Stiles asked.

“Stay the night.”

“I’m not the kind of guy who sleeps with his boss,” Stiles replied gently.

“I’m not asking for sex,” Derek insisted, “I’m talking about holding you. I’m talking puppy pile. Like that first night?”

“The first night when you terrified me until I cried in your bathroom like a girl?”

“That’s sexist,” Derek scolded, “Men can cry, too. Embrace your emotions.”

“Ugh,” Stiles groaned, “Don’t go all feminist on me. You know how I immediately start making protest signs and shit whenever equal rights get brought up.”

Derek laughed lightly, “Yeah, it’s one of your more endearing qualities.”

“Come on,” Stiles pressed, “Answer me. You said like the first night, but fucking hell, that night was horrible for me.”

“It was that bad?” Derek asked, rubbing his back gently, “I- I’m sorry.”

“Good,” Stiles nodded, putting his head on Derek’s shoulder, “That’s a start. Thank you for _finally_ apologizing.”

“I thought I had before?” Derek asked.

“You _stress_ apologized before, Der. In order to keep me here when I was scared to the point of shaking. I’m not a coward, Derek. I’ve faced kanimas, alpha werewolves, a nogitsune, and witches. Nothing was as scary as you that night, mainly because not only was I _alone_ facing you, but you weren’t evil. I couldn’t just kill you and walk away guiltless.”

“You? Kill me?” Derek scoffed.

Stiles sighed heavily and then shifted back, pushing at Derek’s shoulders until he let him go. He glanced around and then fetched a loaf of bread from Derek’s counter. He pulled out two slices of bread and put them down on the table. He held his hand over them while making eye contact with Derek. Derek folded his arms and frowned at Stiles until the bread started smoking. Then he frowned at the bread and stepped forward in alarm. It was toast instead of bread and Derek waved at him to stop.

“Okay! Okay! I get it!”

Stiles moved his hand and Derek swatted at the bread to put out a bit of flame at the top, “Fucking hell, what are you?”

“Warlock,” Stiles stated plainly.

“Okay,” Derek straightened up, “Okay. Uh…”

Derek paced away from Stiles, running his hand through his hair.

“You okay?” Stiles asked, “It’s just a bit of magic, dude.”

“Yeah, remember how my family was _burned to death_?” Derek asked sharply.

“Shit! I’m sorry, dude, I am _so_ sorry,” Stiles insisted, going around the table to wrap his arms around Derek from behind, “I’d never do that. I could have taken this whole building out that first night but I didn’t, right? Because I’m a good person and I saw good in you. Well, I’m an okay person, but that kind of puts us on equal footing.”

Derek turned in his arms and pulled him in for another tight hug, “Okay. Boundaries established. I don’t hold you hostage _ever_ again and you don’t set me or my shit on fire ever again.”

“Dude, bread, not your stuff. I’m not a pyro,” Stiles insisted, “And I’ll stay the night, but you gotta let me run out to get some more stuff. I need my meds and my pillow. I get neck pains without my pillow.”

“Okay,” Derek gave him a gentle squeeze, “Okay, go on and I’ll see you in a few?”

“Yep,” Stiles stepped back, “I’ll come straight back boss-man.”

Derek laughed lightly, “Remind me to get you a time card.”

“Well, yeah, I mean if you’re going to be paying me overtime,” Stiles winked as he backed towards the door, “Might as well get my money’s worth.”

“Yeah, who needs labor laws,” Derek snorted.

Stiles laughed and left him again, and the ache in his chest returned full force. Derek rubbed at it and went to his room to change the sheets so Stiles would have fresh bedding to lie on. A good twenty minutes passed and then he heard the rattle of Stiles’ keys in the door. He let himself in and headed straight for the bedroom.

“Hey, since we’re going to be bunking up can we stay up later? I’m dying to force you into watching the next episode, but it’s sort of long.”

“Season finale?” Derek asked.

“Not exactly,” Stiles replied, “The last episode we watched is actually the last episode they made so the creators ended it with a-“

“ _What_?!” Derek spat out, “They’re fucking _ending it_? On a _cliff hanger?”_

“Uh… yeah,” Stiles blinked, “But I swear there’s a complete ending in the movie!”

“Unacceptable!” Derek shouted.

“As excited as I am to find out that you’ve actually been _enjoying_ the show I’ve been forcing you to watch, I can’t help but agree.”

“This,” Derek pointed at him angrily, “Is why I don’t get invested in TV shows.”

“If it makes you feel any better the next show I have lined up for you-“

“No! No! Absolutely not!”

“Is going onto its 14th season and has some serious homosexual angst.”

“Why would I want homosexual angst?” Derek wondered.

“ _Everyone_ wants homosexual angst,” Stiles scolded, “But... uh... I should warn you there's a pretty shocking death in the movie. You _might_ want to stop here.”

Derek flared his nostrils in consideration, “Fine. One movie finale, but if I cry you say _nothing_.”

“Feminist’s honor,” Stiles held up his hand in solemn oath.

“Good,” Derek stated, “Because if you're shocked by it in your floofy little rainbow world than it's probably devastating.”

“Not crying is not good for you, dude,” Stiles replied as he tossed his pillow down on the bed, “Seriously. You hold it in too long, you get all emotionally constipated, next thing you know your emotional colon has all this rotting emotions in it, you get brain cancer-“

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know.”

As promised, the show rounded most of the plot holes up but Derek was still angry that it hadn’t gotten a second season and absolutely devastated at the death of Wash. It hit hard because he saw the crew of the ship as packmates, and the plucky pilot as the emotional glue. Derek ended up dragging Stiles against himself and holding him tightly. He did shed a few tears, but mostly he was in shock. Losing pack was his own personal hell, but Stiles was keeping him close and Derek began to sincerely worry that he'd started seeing him as pack.

Pack died around Derek.

Pack died in gruesome, horrible ways that he had no way to prevent.

“Hey,” Stiles soothed, rubbing his arms gently, “It's okay.

They were both facing the T.V., with Derek holding Stiles tightly from behind. He snuffled at his neck, needing to mark him and hating the fact he was doing it again and again. This wasn't _his_ packmate. This wasn't _his_ beta. Eventually some big bad alpha was going to show up and rip Derek's throat out for for messing with his packmate. With his _teeth_.

“It's okay, big guy,” Stiles replied softly, “You just say when, okay?”

“When?” Derek asked.

“You sure?”

“I'm not even sure what we're talking about,” Derek replied.

“We're talking pack, Derek. You know you can't go on like this,” Stiles' words were soft but they cut him like a knife, “The Alpha pack is gone. If your ex is still alive we can handle her. My alpha is willing to meet with you.”

“No, that's...” Derek struggled up and over the back of the couch, physically pulling away from Stiles despite his wolf howling with excitement inside his mind, “That's _literally_ the opposite of what I want!”

“It's what you _need_ ,” Stiles replied softly, “Look, I'd love to mooch off of you forever, but the fact remains that you're eventually going to snap and I'll be the one who dies at your hands. Do you want that, Derek? To become the people you're afraid of?”

“Hell, no, but you don't understand!” Derek insisted, feeling his breath increase. His chest hurt. Why the hell did his chest hurt?

“You're not a jinx or whatever you think you are,” Stiles soothed, standing up and slowly approaching him with hands out, “You're last pack is fine. I visited them in my off hours. Isaac says hi.”

“I couldn't... I can't...”

Derek was breathing hard, fear making his vision hazy. Stiles kept coming closer as Derek backed up and while a part of him wanted to curl up in the guy's arms and weep, another part was roaring, screaming in fear, raging against a change that could make things hurt all over again.

And Stiles...

kept...

coming...

closer...

 

“BACK! OFF!”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Derek's head was hanging low. He rubbed his hands together, enjoying the freedom of movement while he still had it. The police were talking to the ambulance crew who were strapping Stiles in as quickly as possible while trying to field questions from the officers.

“I mean, he gave him first aid. His healing magic did a helluva lot more for him than the tourniquet did, but still...” The tech stated softly.

“Yeah, but he also _did_ this. Accident is what he's saying, but we've heard that from abusive partners before,” The officer replied.

“Either way, we're going to head out. Here's our contact,” The tech handed a card over and rolled Stiles out of the room.

Officer Braeden headed over with a heavy sigh, hands on cocked hips as she stared down at Derek. She was beautiful, the kind of powerful woman who attracted him, but at the moment all he could think of was Stiles. This was the first time he'd seen her in years, and they hadn't parted ways well. She might hold that against him, or she might just know that it was part of what Stiles called Derek's 'damage'.

“He's going to be okay?” Derek asked softly.

“You want to go over this with me again?” She asked.

Derek had been the one to call 911. He'd slashed Stiles' wrist wide open. It looked like a suicide attempt, and the officer and ambulance crew had originally thought as much. Derek might have gotten away with it, but he'd fessed up quickly enough.

“We were having... an intense discussion.”

“You were arguing.”

“No,” Derek shook his head quickly, “He was... he was comforting me.”

“You were hurt?” She asked.

Derek shrugged ineffectually, “He had his hands up to calm me. I just... I thought I was having a heart attack, but I'm a few centuries too young for that. My wolf was scared.”

“You were... afraid of him?” She asked.

“I'd never hurt him,” Derek insisted, “I didn't mean to. He just kept coming at me and-”

“This is bullshit,” Parish scoffed, “A werewolf afraid of a human?”

“A warlock,” Braeden countered.

“Who obviously wasn't expecting an attack or isn't powerful.”

“He kept himself alive,” Braeden pointed out.

“He's very moral,” Derek muttered.

“What?” Both officers queried.

“He's very moral,” Derek said a bit louder, “He said before that... that he couldn't hurt me because I'm a good person. Except I hurt him. So... He was wrong.”

Braeden and Parish exchanged glances, and Braeden crouched down so they were at eye level since Derek was still sitting on the floor a bit away from where Stiles had bled all over the floor.

“Where's your pack at?”

“I don't have one,” Derek replied softly.

“You're an alpha,” She stated.

Derek nodded. His eyes hadn't stopped glowing since he'd snapped and accidentally attacked Stiles. He wasn't sure when they would. He was so emotionally charged that he was shaking.

“Stiles was right,” Derek replied, letting his head fall down on his knees and hugging them tightly, “I'm pathetic.”

“He said that?” Braeden asked, voice sharp.

Derek shook his head.

“You say that?” She clarified.

Derek nodded.

“He saw something worth saving, yeah?” Braeden prompted.

Derek shrugged.

“I think I do, too,” She encouraged, “I have to take you in, though, till we get this sorted. Is there anyone who we can call?”

Derek shook his head again, and then lifted it hesitantly, “His alpha. Someone has to call his alpha.”

“We're on it,” She promised, “The hospital will call them. What about _you_. Who takes care of you?”

“No one. Stiles. Stiles was taking care of me. He wanted me to join his pack, but now...”

“Then we call his alpha for you as well?”

Derek blinked. He wanted to apologize if nothing else, “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey,” A soft voice spoke up.

Derek was under the metal bed in the jail cell, whining pitifully with his eyes tightly squeezed shut. He wasn't afraid. He was _ashamed._ Wolves were loyal; that was the basis of a pack. Who had ever heard of an alpha who functioned like an isolated lone wolf? Who couldn't survive in a pack? Who was so fucked in the head that he was unable to bond with even _human_ packmates? This was a whole new low for Derek, fully emphasized by the look of pity the strange alpha was giving him as he crouched down in the cell.

“Stiles didn't press charges. He says it was an accident. He's a pretty good liar, but I think he's being honest this time. Especially after seeing you. He said you were having a panic attack?”

To Derek's absolute horror he couldn't reply, only whine louder. If he'd had room he was disgusted to realize he'd have been on his belly. Mighty alpha? Try pathetic worm.

“You can't be all bad,” The alpha he assumed was Scott considered, “If you were you'd be a kanima or something worse.”

“The fuck is worse than a kanima?!” Derek wheezed, embarrassing himself further.

Scott chuckled, “You don't want to know. Let's just say I barely survived it. Come on out of there. You're safe.”

“You aren't...” Derek dragged himself out as Scott backed up and spoke hopefully, “Aren't you going to punish me?”

“For what?”

“Hurting Stiles!”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“No. I... something was wrong with me.”

“Yeah, Stiles is really beating himself up. Says he should have known not to approach a werewolf having a panic attack. Says he backed you into a corner.”

“No excuse,” Derek grumbled, still crouching on the floor on the edge of feral. He didn't want to stand in front of this strange alpha anyway. Scott might take it as a challenge, especially with Stiles' scent all over him. His _blood_ and scent.

“Look, Stiles is one of the most paranoid bastards I know,” Scott stated, walking to the bed and sitting on it as far from Derek as possible. He patted the ratty mattress and Derek slowly picked himself up off the floor and took the other side.

“How so?”

“He once decided that some dude who came to our school wasn't what he said he was based on basically a bad feeling and dug until he proved foul play. The rest of us just thought he was a transfer student who we'd known as kids, so we trusted him. He got past werewolf senses, but he couldn't get past Stiles.”

“So what are you saying?”

“That if Stiles trusts you, than I do.”

“He thought I was going to kill him for the first eight hours I knew him,” Derek replied dryly.

“Wow, you won him over after eight hours? That must be some kind of record!” Scott teased, making an aborted shoulder bump in the air.

Derek's longing for pack comfort kicked in hard. He wanted that shoulder to have touched his. He wanted the alpha to mark him as his own. Instinct was a powerful thing and Derek was hurting so much that it manifested as a deep, groan of agony. Scott heard it and a small whine vibrated from _his_ throat, drawing Derek's eyes over in surprise. Big, brown, sympathetic eyes met his and Derek leaned a bit towards him. Scott took that as permission and slid across the stiff mat towards him, slipping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him in. A chin rubbed against the top of Derek's head when he instinctively flinched down and he leaned into Scott in relief.

Derek was beyond shame at that point, so when his strength left him and he sagged down into Scott's lap he didn't bother to fight it. Years. Years and years of loneliness and death. Years of just existing because life was too hard to live. Years of wishing it would just end, but knowing that he couldn't dishonor his family's memory by actively doing such a thing. Years of packless misery.

Scott's hand rested on Derek's shoulder. He wasn't coddling or holding him the way Stiles would have, just being the strong presence of an alpha that Derek needed. It was such a relief that Derek felt immediate exhaustion wash over him. He wanted to sleep, but he also hated the place he was in and wanted to go home. Prisons were hell for werewolves. Scott seemed to sense the need and spoke again.

“We can leave whenever you're ready. The cops didn't want you to freak out and risk injuring yourself or someone else so I told them I'd handle it.”

“Yeah,” Derek pushed himself upright and then onto his feet. They'd taken his shoes so Scott led him back out to claim them along with his wallet. He hadn't grabbed his cell phone on the way out the door so it wasn't with his things.

“Stiles is waiting outside in his jeep-”

“He's okay?” Derek jumped on the words.

“Yeah, he's fine,” Scott grinned, “Few stitches, but we've been through worse.”

“That's...” Derek shook his head, not wanting to think of what could be worse.

Stiles got out of the car as Derek approached, giving him a lopsided grin. He was wearing his sleep pants, no shoes or shirt, and what was clearly Scott's borrowed jacket.

“Oh, man, you were like...” Stiles waved vaguely with one hand, “Super frickin hot.”

“They gave him the good meds,” Scott grinned.

“He had to get surgery?!” Derek choked out.

“Nah, he was just annoying the frick out of them. I think he skipped his meds again.”

“You were all 'roar' and I was all 'woah' and, the police! What's with the police, man? I love the police. I'm a cop's kid. Well, a sheriff's kid...” Stiles babbled, “But _man_ , that one cop? Woah, dude. Not cool. And the hot lady one thought I was abusing you. She asked me lots of questions. I didn't embarrass you. More.”

Derek walked up and hugged him gently, snuffling his hair in apology.

“They shouldn't'ave arrested-ed you,” Stiles mumbled against Derek's shoulder.

“They had to, Stiles,” Scott giggled, “But it's okay now. Come on, get in. You wanna go back to Sourwolf's house?”

“Yeah! Sourwolf's house! I love Sourwolf's house!” Stiles crowed, then paused as he leaned back to stare up at Derek in confusion, “But Sourwolf is right here?”

“Just get in the jeep,” Derek laughed lightly.

Stiles climbed in the back, much to Derek's relief, and he joined him and held him gently as Scott drove them. Stiles was singing a medley of 80's songs to himself while tracing the seams of Derek's leather jacket. Derek was surprised to find that Scott knew the way, but then he'd have had to pick up Stiles' jeep so he had to have gone to Derek's place at least once. Sure enough, a motorcycle was sitting next to Stiles' usual parking space and Scott pulled up next to it.

“So,” Scott's eyes met Derek's in the mirror, “I think I'd better stay.”

It wasn't a request and Derek wasn't going to protest it. Scott was Stiles' alpha and his packmate was injured. He was also initiating Derek into the pack, had already scent-marked him once, and was clearly intending on making sure Derek was stable. Derek didn't argue. He just helped a sleepy Stiles out of the car and scooped him up to carry him upstairs. They got off the elevator and into Derek's place where he gently laid Stiles down in his bed before turning to face the alpha.

“I appreciate you getting me out of jail and all, but-”

“Nope,” Scott shook his head, soft smile still firmly in place, but now it seemed stiff and enforcing instead of cheerful and slightly dim.

“Nope to... what?”

“You weaseling out of the pack,” Scott stated, stripping off his shirt and tossing it down on Derek's couch, “Stiles has been keeping me appraised of your little song and dance. He's been filming you when he can, so I know he's not exaggerating. You're not okay alone, and don't try to say you're dangerous.”

“I just fucking slit your beta's wrist open!” Derek shouted, gesturing at the bed.

“Shhh,” Stiles scolded lightly, “No growly growly naughty wolfy.”

Scott laughed at him lightly, “I like him like this.”

“You can't just _ignore_ this!” Derek stage whispered.

“There,” Scott whispered back, “That's why I can.”

Derek gave him the vaguely confused and frustrated gestures that bizarre statement required and Scott smiled brightly.

“You care, man. You actively care, and it's pretty obvious you do. You're hurt, and that made you lash out, but you didn't _mean_ to hurt Stiles. It was an accident. So I'm staying to bond with you, not because I'm afraid you'll hurt Stiles.”

“How about a history of 'accidents'?” Derek asked, making air quotes.

“I know your history,” Scott replied, sobering a bit, “I'm really sorry for your losses. I know that doesn't make it better, but I really am. You've had a shit life. I think you're owed a break, don't you?”

“Is this for my money?” Derek asked, jumping to the first logical conclusion, “Your pack is poor? You need me to survive?”

“If that helps you sleep at night,” Scott shrugged, “Speaking of which, I'm exhausted. Come on, man. I know you are, too.”

Derek really was bone weary. He was completely drained from what had apparently been a panic attack. Scott wasn't going anywhere and Derek was loath to admit that he wasn't about to let Stiles go without another round of really pathetic begging. If he was frantically keeping one he might as well let the alpha stay. Derek wasn't sure if he would flee come morning, abandoning his home and the pack he longed for out of fear, or if he'd give in and let them have their way. Perhaps the worst was over? Hope sat in his belly like a stone, much like the fable of old.

Stiles was snoring loudly so Derek turned to the bed, teeth clenched tightly, and rolled him onto his side to stop the loud noise. It quieted to a soft hush of breath and Derek stripped off his shirt and jeans to slide in behind him. He wrapped his arms tightly around Stiles, plastering himself against the young man's body. He hoped his usual desire for him would be tamped down with the alpha in the bed, especially since he'd be able to smell it.

Scott finished undressing and slipped in behind Derek, pressing against him as the big (bigger?) spoon. Derek huffed out a breath at the scent behind him. It was both familiar and unfamiliar as it was part of Stiles' underlying scent but the young human always washed vigorously before visiting him. Nothing completely removed the scent of constant werewolf contact, but it diminished it enough to avoid it being noxious and make it part of Stiles' underlying eau de parfum. Stiles sighed in his sleep and Scott let out a soft whuffing noise that settled Derek's nerves against his will. Now he was surrounded by packmates, and he couldn't deny that that is what they were.

_This is it. Round... I've lost track of how many rounds I've gone with fate. She always wins, though. I started out on the wrong foot with Stiles and ended up hurting him already. This will only end in tears, but now I'm in it up to my neck. All I can do is sink and hope Stiles rescues me._

 


	7. Chapter 7

If Derek expected a huge and shocking change he was sorely disappointed. Scott left shortly after Derek woke up the next morning, only staying long enough to give him a sharp sniff to make sure his scent had taken. Since Derek was an alpha there was no need- or a way that wouldn't cause conflict- to mark him in any other way. After that the only difference was that Stiles stopped showering directly before coming over for his _still_ paid visits. He came smelling of pack, nearly all of them unknown to Derek. Since he'd been brought in it didn't trigger the possessive rage that it might have had he come before Derek bonded with Scott. Instead it made him pin Stiles against a wall and sniff him from head to toe like the savage his isolation had made him. One scent was stronger than the others, and when Derek asked it turned out that he had a room mate who was a were coyote. Stiles had laughed through most of, gotten silent, alarmed and aroused through parts of it, and then walked away with an amused glance at Derek as if he were absolutely ridiculous and Stiles was willing to indulge him.

Indulge him he did. Stiles brought his mats over and they did couple's yoga every morning. Stiles left as Derek's exercise routine kicked in, giving him a wave as he headed off to school with a skip in his step. He came back for dinner each evening and a cuddle session afterwards. Three nights a week, when he didn't have morning classes the next day, he would spend the night with Derek in his bed. Sometimes when they lay together Stiles smelled so strongly of arousal that Derek would ache to just pin him down and swallow his cock until the young man screamed out his release. Yet they stayed professional since Stiles was still technically his employee.

Yet, even as they fell into routine, Derek was sure that disaster lay right around the corner. It kept him slightly tense, even long after his wolf settled into the contentment that came with having pack. Sometimes Stiles would plead to bring over a guest. At first it was only Scott. Then Lydia. Malia, his room mate, who Derek recognized as distant kin with a sniff. They seemed to have a history together, but whatever it was it was long past based on the way they interacted so Derek pushed down his bitter jealousy. When Stiles brought over Jackson Derek very nearly forbid him from bringing anyone else over again. Stiles just told him that one 'got used to Jackson's assholery'. Derek argued that that wasn't a word.

Liam was an adorable puppy of a beta who reminded Derek painfully of Isaac, and Stiles as per usual read his mind on the matter. He brought Isaac by a week later and all that longing for pack that Derek had thought was gone came bubbling back up, because this was _his beta._ His beta, who answered to and smelled like another alpha. Derek hedged away from him, keeping his hands to himself despite his urge to scent him and take him back. He couldn't stop the angry grumble that rumbled up out of his throat, and Isaac couldn't contain a soft, miserable whine.

“I know,” Isaac whispered, “I know.”

What he knew, whether it was all the words Derek couldn't say or his sorrow over the scent change, Isaac didn't elaborate. He just wrung his hands until Stiles pulled one of his awkward moments and announced that he was going to order take out. Then they tried to relax. Or rather, Isaac did. Isaac laughed and joked with Stiles, the two of them mocking each other sarcastically, while Derek sat on the couch and stared at Isaac like an obsessed stalker.

“So what do yo do for a living?” Isaac asked about midway through their meal.

“I work for Derek, actually,” Stiles grinned broadly.

Isaac choked on his food and glanced at Derek, “Dude. You're at prostitutes now? You seriously need to get closer to his pack.”

“I'm not a sex worker,” Stiles replied casually, apparently not bothered by the assumption.

“You smell like lust and _Derek_. Seriously heavily of Derek. And lust. And angst. And lust. And a little bit of your pack. And did I mention lust?” Isaac laughed.

Derek's face was _burning_ with humiliation. He was staring murder at Isaac, but he only glanced at him and looked back away. He had truly lost Isaac if his death stare wasn't working, but it didn't effect him like he'd thought it would. He just flared his nostrils in frustration and helplessly watched the continued train wreck.

“Our relationship is platonic,” Stiles replied, giving Isaac an amused glance, “I kind of have a history of falling hard for beautiful, powerful, unattainable people. Derek's virtue isn't in danger with me. I know he's off limits.”

Isaac and Derek glanced at each other again, but this time in confusion. Isaac took in the fact that Derek was _not_ going to say something, and Derek saw the horrible moment when Isaac decided he _would_. He reached out and grabbed his arm firmly, but Isaac gave him the challenging look that deserved. If Isaac went back with bruises from an alpha on him then Satomi would visit. She would _not_ be understanding about it. Derek released him with a warning flare of his nostrils, but Isaac steamed right on forward without a care in the world.

“Why is he off limits, exactly?”

“Umm... hello? He's my _boss.”_

“He's your packmate,” Isaac replied, “If you need money he should just provide it, especially since he's rich as fuck.”

“That's not how money works, honey,” Stiles snorted, putting a container of food in Isaac's hands and dropping down in between them. He snuggled up to Derek's side, and he put an arm around him so he could keep him close while he ate.

“Money in packs works that way,” Isaac pointed out, “Everyone shares money. Well, they do in groups. So, like, those who interact the most in the pack will have group funds. They do it in family funds in big packs, but yours is small, right?”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked cautiously.

“So Derek's money is your money,” Isaac stated, “You can use it to go to school for yourself or buy groceries for the pack.”

“That's... crazy. Who does that?” Stiles asked in confusion.

“Most packs, to be honest. In bigger packs there's a communal fund that's only accessible by applying to the Alpha and then individual families or smaller packs within the bigger pack will have their own communal funds. Like union dues. Everyone chips some in, usually a percentage based on your income with allowances per child or if you have some kind of medical issue or whatever. That money builds up, earns interest in most cases, and a small pack like yours just uses it for whatever but big packs like mine require you to have special circumstances. So like my college tuition is crazy high-”

“You're going to college?” Derek butted in, both to halt the flow of chatter and because he was honestly shocked. Isaac had dropped out of high school. He'd expected him to work in fast food for the rest of his life.

“Yeah,” Isaac gave Derek a shy glance, “For animal husbandry. Anyway. My tuition is crazy high so I asked for help. Satomi made sure that I don't have to pay a penny. They're paying for my books, my food, shelter, everything. All the money I make at the burger shop goes to stuff like clothes or whatever. So technically I could stop working if my grades slip, which means I wouldn't have pocket money, but also some of my pay goes back _into_ the pot. When I graduate and get a high paying job the dollar amount I give goes up because my paycheck is higher. So instead of giving them a $1.19 a week, it will be hundreds, but I'll also be bringing more in for myself. And if I have kids the percentage goes down... I think by two percent per kid? So, like, more money for the kid in my pocket. Eventually that money pays for my kid's tuition.”

“That's... crazy awesome,” Stiles replied softly, “But we don't do that.”

“No, but you could. I mean, your pack is comprised of turned wolves, so they don't really know this is an option. If you all started contributing now it would take a while to build up so maybe make it untouchable... or have Derek seed it for you.”

Stiles turned to Derek, eyebrows raised in expectation. Derek was... miserable. If he told Stiles that he'd happily pay for his education- which he would- than Stiles would stop coming over. Derek didn't need it anymore; he was completely recovered from the anxiety of being packless. All he would need to do was reach out to the pack and offer to host pack gatherings every once in a while. They would come over and he'd get his dose of pack piles in. In between, the fact that he could _feel_ the pack bond would be enough to keep him healthy. It would _not_ keep him happy. Having Stiles come over several times a week kept him happy.

“That's how... _born_ werewolf packs... do it,” Derek forced out.

“There are turned wolves in our pack,” Isaac insisted, looking frustrated, “I'm one of them. _You_ turned me, so you know that.”

“Yeah, but your alpha is a born wolf,” Derek gestured weakly, “She's comfortable with that set up.”

“ _I'm_ comfortable with that set up,” Stiles replied, “I do all of Scott's thinking. I'll tell him about it. Thanks, Isaac!”

“Sure,” Isaac grinned, “And once it gets started Derek won't be your boss anymore!”

“Uh... yeah,” Stiles replied, voice more subdued, “That's... true...”

“So we can be friends, then,” Derek spat out, giving Stiles' arm a squeeze.

Stiles' head swung over to him, and while he was smiling warmly at Derek the scent of distress and sorrow flooded his nose. Isaac, now behind Stiles, swung his arms and mouthed 'no' at him in horror. Derek frowned and glanced back and forth at them in confusion.

“Sure,” Stiles grinned, “We're pack now.”

“Yeah. Pack,” Derek acknowledged.

“Wow, you're extra hopeless,” Isaac sighed, getting up to get himself a drink from the fridge.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Derek dreaded the day he went to the bank with Scott and finalized the pack account. Since a lot of their packmates were young, Scott and Stiles were going to hold the account's access in their names. Derek was offered a spot as account holder as the first contributor, but he wasn't keen to be responsible for it so he'd declined. He was going to move a hundred thousand dollars into the pack account to get it started. After that each pack member would deposit 10% of their paychecks to the fund, with the exception of those who were unable to. For the most part that meant Stiles and Scott since they were the only ones in college without a full scholarship. Lydia's way was paid by her scholarship funds, but Stiles and Scott only had partial scholarships. The other packmates were either done school or not going.

Derek arrived in the late evening after Scott and Stiles' classes and heard them before he saw them. They were loudly chatting about Marvel movies as they walked down the sidewalk, bursting through the doors with one of Stiles' dramatic movements. Scott was grinning at him happily despite arguing with him about Loki's 'alignment'. When they saw Derek they waved and grinned as they walked over to him.

“My dad's lawyer gave us the paperwork for the account,” Stiles smiled broadly, “She'd been familiar with the process already so it sped things up. Now we just need to finish opening the account, put your money in it, and voila! Done deal!”

Derek motioned for the counter without a word and they headed over to finalize things. When Derek signed the transfer slip he felt like he was signing away his happiness. Stiles had not only connected him with the pack he _mentally_ needed, he'd met his physical need for closeness. Derek didn't technically need it anymore, but he didn't want it to stop either. Having Stiles all wrapped up in his arms on the regular was comforting, his scent warmed Derek's heart, and there was no getting around the fact he was attracted to him.

Derek had pushed it aside while he was employing him, but like Isaac had said: with Stiles no longer freelancing Derek had a chance to actually lance him. … Isaac's version of that line had been _far_ less ridiculous. The problem was, Derek hadn't properly dated in years. He'd gone through hookups, but the rare times he'd connected with someone it hadn't lasted. On occasion it had gone horribly wrong. Derek couldn't imagine Stiles hurting him or his pack the way Kate had, but then he hadn't been able to see Kate's cruelty past his dick. What if Stiles were the same?

Derek blinked when he realized they were outside the bank. He had zoned out of the entire proceedings while turning over asking Stiles out. Now Stiles and Scott were saying goodbye to him, Scott with a quick rub against his cheek to mark him and Stiles with a quickly slung arm around his shoulders. Derek's arm moved instinctively around Stiles' waist and for a moment he refused to let go. Stiles leaned back and met the steel band of Derek's arm. He paused, head shifting to meet Derek's eyes. His eyebrows went up and Derek froze, just staring at him and trying to silently communicate all the thoughts in his head that wouldn't come out his mouth.

_Coffee. Ask him out for coffee. He lives on it._

“You okay, sourwolf?” Stiles asked, eyebrows going up when Derek pulled him in closer, “This is starting to feel like a bodice-ripper pose.”

Derek let Stiles go as if he were burnt and turned sharply to move away. His face was burning with embarrassment. Even after he'd gotten the pack he needed he was _still_ clingy. Maybe this time around Derek was the one who was unwell. Maybe he had been all along. He'd always felt a painful amount of guilt over his pack's death and all the subsequent disasters. It only made sense that he, being the common denominator, was the cause of it all.

“Stiles, is he okay?” Scott asked from far behind Derek where he'd hurriedly left them.

“I don't think there's enough therapists in California to make him okay, dude.”

Derek got in his Camero, blinking away tears as he drove back to his lonely flat and the hell he'd made for himself.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Derek was wallowing. He was just clicking through the channels and scowling hatefully at everything that came on the television. He only got cable for Stiles, because he claimed he was too bored without something to watch. He'd then told Derek Netflix was better, but Derek hadn't know what that was so he hadn't gotten it. Stiles had put it on his laptop for Derek and they'd watched a few movies in a row together. It had been nice. Derek wished he had that kind of selection now, but it had been Stiles' account. He was just starting to wonder how he could get Netflix on his television- or if he had to invest in a laptop- when the proximity alarm went off.

Derek checked the screen and frowned. Stiles was on his way up.

_Stiles!!_

Derek bolted through his home, collecting trash and stuffing it into a bag along with a few plates that he didn't think he cold fit into the sink. He nearly fell into the tub in his haste to climb into the claw foot bath, pulled the curtain around himself, stripped, turned on the water, splashed himself liberally with body wash, barely rinsed, and fled back out to shove his clothes into the least offensive smelling clothes he had. Stiles slid the door open and blinked at Derek owlishly.

“Huh,” Stiles stated.

“What?” Derek asked, trying for casual but landing on offended and annoyed.

“Did you miss me?”

“What? No. Why?”

“Well, you _are_ wearing my shirt. It... uh... it doesn't exactly _fit_.”

Derek turned away from Stiles sharply to study the empty drawer of his dresser. Everything he had was filthy, but Stiles didn't need to know that.

“I thought it shrunk,” Derek explained.

“Dude, you'd have to do laundry for it to shrink,” Stiles pointed out, “Even I can smell the foot funk in here.”

Derek huffed out through his nose, pulling the older shirt off and tossing it down onto the laundry pile, “I'll get it back to you once I've washed it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles sassed.

“Why are you here, Stiles?”

“Scott said you've been letting him scent you and then basically kicking him out,” Stiles told him, “He mentioned the living like a slob part, too. I thought that was weird because you were always weirdly neat and tidy when I used to come over. Then I thought maybe you're not as okay as we thought you were gonna be.”

“I clean for company,” Derek stated flatly.

“So you're... secretly a disgusting slob?”

Derek looked around himself at the mess he couldn't hide before Stiles got in, “Yes?”

“Riiight,” Stiles nodded, taking a seat, “So... what's going on?”

Derek sat down on the opposite side of the couch, the longing to wrap him up in his arms burning through him. It had been four weeks. Stiles had been through his midterms and out the other end and the toll was clear on his face. He had lost weight and had bags beneath his eyes. He hadn't been good at monitoring his sleep before Derek had met him, tending to work until he was exhausted, sleep, wake up, overindulge in coffee, repeat. Stiles hated to waste time on sleep. Derek hated to waste time pulling him into bed and stroking his hair until he fell asleep.

“Oxytocin,” Derek stated.

“What?” Stiles blinked, “The love hormone?”

“Yes,” Derek nodded, not surprised Stiles knew what it was. He was a quick study in many things, after all. Obsessive in his knowledge gathering.

“Werewolves snuggle all the time. It releases oxytocin, obviously, but it's a pack bonding hormone as well. Packmates don't love each other, not necessarily, they have a pathway- a connection in the brain- that humans don't attain,” Stiles stated as if reciting from a book.

Derek nodded slowly.

“So you're saying I can't feel what you're feeling?”

Derek nodded again.

“Are you very sure about that?” Stiles prodded gently, his voice coaxing.

“Do you?” Derek asked softly.

“Love you?” Stiles clarified.

Derek nodded, eyes still firmly on Stiles' shoes. If he looked at his face he'd lunge at him and smother him in... kisses? Perhaps more likely he'd just growl and rub his face all over Stiles' face and neck, and then hide in his chest in shame. He'd done it again. Fallen for someone he shouldn't. Fallen for someone who was in a position of power over him, someone like Kate who if given a glimmer of madness would commit mass murder. Or Braeden who he had been mildly afraid of even while in love. She had never hurt him, but eventually he had just... fled, and _she_ had been the only one to stay! Stiles was the alpha's first. He _was_ the pack. He was only one who mattered to Scott more than his own life. Possibly more than the mate Derek hadn't met yet. If Derek ever hurt Stiles- intentionally like Paige or unintentionally like his own deceased pack- than Scott would end him. Slowly. For this reason alone Stiles was a dangerous man to be foolishly in love with, but Derek had been in love often enough to know that it had happened yet again despite him willing it not to.

“Well...” Stiles paused a moment, “Aside from the obvious problem of me being heterosexual... yeah. Yes, I love you.”

“Straight?” Derek blinked, “You're straight?”

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugged one shouldered, “I'm sorry, Derek.”

“No, you're not,” Derek huffed.

“I honestly am,” Stiles sighed, “You're a wonderful guy and you deserve-”

“I mean you're not _straight_ ,” Derek corrected.

“Dude. Everyone knows not to question queer identity. Don't go questioning straight identity, okay?” Stiles replied waspishly.

“Scent doesn't lie, not even to itself,” Derek replied sharply back.

“The hell does that mean?” Stiles threw his arms up and sagged in the couch, but Derek could see his face twisting up when he glanced at him briefly.

“You _know_ what it means.”

“My mom... she died when I was little and she... she had all these plans for a future for me. I know if... on one level I know that if I had had the time to come out as bisexual to her than she would have been fine with it, but she died before I even knew what _my_ dick was for. She died talking about me having a wife and kids one day. So what if it cut my dating pool in half? I still like girls. I can still happily marry one. Have a wife. Have kids. Have a picket fence and a dog who pisses on the carpet and-”

“Don't let it do that, god!” Derek gave him a horrified look, “It stinks up the whole house and short of ripping up the foundation you never get it out!”

Stiles laughed, “Well you don't have to come over, I'll come to you. Just like I did. Just like I can continue to do if you need me to, but you have to understand that I'm not... _with_ you. I'm with Malia, actually. I didn't want to instigate you so I said room mate, but it's more than that. We haven't mated yet- not formally, we've slept together, but not done the ceremony- but we're going to. Someday. Do you... do you still want me to come over?”

He sounded hopeful, and suddenly Derek was thinking about Malia and how short she'd been with him when they'd met even though they'd both realized the other was distant family. Yet they hadn't smelled of sex, unless they'd been finding ways to keep it away without bathing the pack scent off? Yet Stiles hadn't been lying when he'd called them room mates. Or now when he's said they were more. Was Derek losing his touch? Shit. He'd been keeping her boyfriend over at his place. Overnight. Often. The smell of their lusting after each other had to have been permeating the loft. She must have been standing in her own personal hell when they'd met, and Stiles had orchestrated it. Had presumably made excuses or explanations to her. He had to have known that she'd walk in and smell that and had _made it happen._

“No.”

“Oh,” Stiles sounded a bit lost.

“I won't be who you cheat with.”

“I'm not cheating! There's no cheating! I specifically said no to the cheating!” Stiles flailed, “Just what we did before, but without paying me!”

“Fine. You told me from the door that you were seeing me because you pitied me and I was rich and you needed the money. ¼ pity. That's what you said. Well, now you've got my money. You can go to school without coming around anymore. So all that's left is the pity. I don't want your pity.”

“Wait, are you mad about the money?” Stiles asked in alarm, “Because we can give it back. We did this because Isaac told us it was best, what packs normally do. We didn't mean to just... to _take_ your money. It's supposed to be communal, right? Well, if you're not getting anything out of it-”

“I don't want the money back, Stiles,” Derek sighed, standing up and moving away from him towards the door, “I'm happy to contribute to the pack. I do get something out of it. I get _pack_. I'm content with _pack._ What I wanted is off the table. Let me mope a bit and I'll get over it after a few pints of Chubby Hubby. Meanwhile, you get to live your dream of a perfect heterosexual relationship so your dead mother isn't disappointed in you.”

“Fucking hell, Derek!” Stiles stood up and gaped at him.

Derek pushed the door open and gestured to it, “Go back to your future wife who you're not sleeping with and _not mated to,_ and pretend that isn't significant.”

“We, we, we, we have sex! It's just been a bit! And we're just not at the bonding part yet, you ass!” Stiles spat out, stomping towards the door, “It doesn't mean anything!”

“That you have to justify it with a _lie_ does,” Derek replied, turning as Stiles passed him and headed for the stairs at a quick pace, “I can hear your heart, Stiles!”

“Fuck you!” Stiles shouted over his shoulder.

Derek leaned out the door, “And for the record, werewolf males _can give birth_. So your excuse is shit!”

Stiles didn't pause on the stairs and Derek's stomach sank. So. He'd known, then, that werewolf men were at least an option if he wanted a family. Stiles was so engrossed in his mother's probably unintentional hetero upbringing that he wasn't going to even _consider_ Derek. Derek slid the door shut, slammed both fists against it hard enough to leave dents in the thick metal, and groaned at how absolutely cruel and idiotic he'd just been. Well. So much for Stiles being a threat to Derek's pathetic heart.

“I would have carried them for you,” Derek whispered.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Derek actually stopped moping after that. Rage _was_ his anchor, after all. He cleaned his place properly, showered thoroughly, and began the process of affirming his place in the pack. He had been receiving the group texts discussing various events together, so he knew that Stiles and Scott had recently gone to a science fair together with Liam. He knew the women had various standing dates to at hair salons, nail salons, and diners spread out over the coming months. The guys and a woman named Kira who Derek hadn't met yet liked lacrosse and went to various games at the college and sometimes their old high school. The entire pack had a standing Wednesday night pub date, attended by whoever was free with an emphasis on trying to be available; Stiles had mentioned it early on in their acquaintance as a night he couldn't work. It was on the Trivia night, and apparently this Lydia woman and Stiles would go head to head with the rest of the pack as part of their team each night.

Derek wanted to avoid Stiles so at first he went to anything that wouldn't likely have him there, which meant he walked into a nail salon to be greeted by the feminine half of their pack all staring at him with wide eyes. He'd called ahead to add himself to their appointment, but apparently no one had mentioned it to the actual guests. So Derek sidled up, sat down, and started shimmying out of his shoes and socks. He'd self-consciously washed his feet before coming in, but he'd never had a pedicure so it was going to be weird for him. He hadn't realized just how weird until Malia cleared her throat.

“So... you practicing being a girl for when someone gets you pregnant?”

“Malia,” Lydia warned sharply.

“What?” Malia asked, “I wasn't mean. That wasn't a mean comment.”

“It was kinda mean,” An Asian woman- Kira- whispered.

“It was sexist,” Derek stated flatly, picking up a magazine and then tossing it down when he realized it was so very female based that he'd be not only lost but bored if he read it, “Men can get pedicures, too.”

“And get pregnant, apparently,” Malia replied dryly.

“Scott was a little freaked out about that,” Kira mentioned.

“Scott doesn't have to be,” Derek replied, glancing around at who might be listening, “It only happens if you're... born like me. Not turned. Besides, I thought Stiles knew that already? How did Scott not know?”

“Stiles didn't know,” Malia replied, glaring needles at him, her suspicion obvious.

“Well, luckily it's not something he needs to worry about,” Derek replied sharply back, “He's with a girl and I'm assuming he knows what to do to avoid that with you.”

“Well, now that you two have clearly marked up your territory,” The woman who had to be Lydia interrupted, “I would like the only sharp objects in the room to be their instruments, not your teeth and claws.”

Malia turned in her seat and the staff who had been clearly waiting for their snarking to stop swarmed down on them. Derek found himself enjoying the appointment, noting that this might have been a good way for him to get casual contact before pack if he'd realized it was an option. In the end he opted to get his fingernails done as well, and even agreed to some clear coat polish just because he liked the way it looked on Malia's nails. Malia glared at him, but he just rolled his eyes. He didn't have ulterior motives. He had the opposite of ulterior motives!

Their appointment ended with the pack gathering around in the waiting room to admire each other's nails, coo over the details, and chide Malia for not doing something more exciting. Lydia gripped Derek's hand when Malia and Kira both avoided him. He was there for pack contact, after all, and wasn't _getting it_. Derek looked up into Lydia's eyes in surprise. She was frowning down at his nails when she suddenly turned his hand over sharply and traced a line down his palm. When she spoke her voice sounded deep and scratchy.

“ **Your life line has been altered once in the past. You will only survive one more change.”**

Lydia dropped his hand, going pale and leaning heavily against Kira when she stepped forward in alarm.

“What... the hell was that?” Malia asked.

“Yeah, what she said?” Kira wondered.

“I think you're going to die soon,” Lydia gave Derek a worried glance, “Except it's up in the air instead of determined already. It's... it's only happened once before, after Allison died.”

“ _After_ she died?” Kira asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Lydia straightened up, making a show of brushing off her dress and straightening her hair which only partly covered up her intent to avoid anyone's eyes, “When Scott was suicidal.”

Lydia breezed out the door as if she hadn't just dropped a bomb on them all. Malia gave Derek a wide-eyed look of absolute fear and Kira opened her mouth to say something only to shut it again with a little whimper.

Derek rolled his eyes hard, “I'm not going to kill myself. She's wrong.”

“She's never wrong,” Malia replied firmly.

“Well, there's a first time for everything,” Derek snarled, then stormed out in a much less convincing way than Lydia had.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Each week was an exercise in making himself socialize. He hated it, but he wanted to survive and pack contact was required for that. He showed up at the hair salon, but was turned away because it was women's only. Lydia promptly canceled her appointment in solidarity and Kira followed suit. Malia did as well, but it was clearly grudgingly. They went out to eat instead, and Lydia found a gender neutral salon for their next appointment.

“We'll have to wait two weeks,” Lydia frowned, “My highlights won't survive, but pack is pack.”

“My perm will make it,” Malia grumbled, giving Derek an annoyed glare.

“I just get my eyebrows done,” Kira grinned, “I do it at home during the rest of the month, so I can go without for a bit. I only really get it done because, like, I don't do much with my hair. Just wash and brush.”

“So much wasted potential,” Lydia sighed.

“Shut up, you talked me into a perm and I loved it. Let Kira be herself,” Malia scolded.

“You're a goddess with curls and I maintain that,” Lydia replied, “Kira is a goddess without and I respect that. I still want to see her with the occasional _fun_ hairdo. Lighter tips! An orange stripe! Something!”

“I'm not an orange fox,” Kira sniffed, “I'm a white one.”

“Sure you are,” Malia snorted, “You can't handle 60 degree weather, let alone freezing cold!”

“So I'm pampered! That's my right!” Kira laughed.

Derek sipped his tea and scowled down at his greasy diner food. He hated this. It wasn't the food or the fact he was hanging out with women, it was the fact he was hanging out _at all_. He hated going out. That was what had made it so difficult to get casual contact. He was a home body, and he wanted to be that way regularly.

“You don't have to change salons,” Derek replied, “I'll find another way to get pack contact. Maybe have people over.”

“You live in a smelly warehouse,” Malia replied.

“I got the downstairs repaired,” Derek replied, “That was the only part that smelled. It had a mold problem.”

“Oh,” Malia replied softly.

“It... doesn't smell like...” Derek struggled a moment, “Stiles doesn't have to come. You can tell him that.”

“Sure,” Malia nodded, pushing her food around on her plate.

“Wait, what's Stiles got to do with anything?” Kira wondered.

“When does Stiles _not_ have to do with something?” Lydia asked with a sigh.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

He showed up. Of course he did. Stiles had zero boundaries, which was why he'd made a great Koala Cuddler (fuck the spelling) in the first place. He showed up at Derek's place with a big bowl of home-made nachos and a cheerful greeting as if they hadn't had a shouting match last time they'd seen each other. Derek ducked his excited backslap and avoided him for the rest of the night. It meant he spent a good part of it plastering himself to anyone else. It became a game to the pack members. Derek would move away from Stiles and lean into another packmate's space, they'd put an arm around him or hand on him, and after a bit Stiles would find an excuse to come over to them. Stiles would edge in, seemingly unaware of his strange need to get into Derek's space, and the packmate would come between them and distract Stiles for a while. When it stopped being effective Derek would flee to the next person. Stiles' weaker human hearing meant he didn't know that Liam was running a tally using a stop watch. So far Lydia was the best at keeping Stiles away from Derek.

Malia smelled like coiled rage and hurt. So much hurt. When Derek got to the point where Stiles started to realize he was being avoided and headed straight for him in a tiff Derek fled to her in a desperate attempt to get him to _pay attention to his girlfriend._

It failed spectacularly.

“Dude, you can't avoid me forever. We're packmates!” Stiles snapped as Derek stood firmly behind Malia as if she were a tree to hide behind. He wasn't even being subtle anymore.

Malia was never subtle and that included this very moment when she slugged Stiles hard enough to make his feet clear the floor. He went crashing down onto Derek's coffee table, breaking one leg off before he rolled off it and onto the floor unconscious. The pack at large gasped and ran for him, but Derek didn't. He bolted forward to face off against Malia, protecting Stiles from further assault. He flashed red eyes at Malia and roared out a challenge that she echoed with equal savagery.

Scott ended the fight before it could begin, letting out his own angry roar that shook dust from the rafters and left the pack crouching in submission. Malia looked... confused. Derek felt it. He wasn't sure anymore if they were about to battle it out over her violence towards Stiles or over who got to keep him. Everything was muddied and Derek felt dirty.

“Malia, what the fuck?!” Scott shouted, walking past them both to get to Stiles, “He's human! You could have broken his neck! Did she break his neck?!”

Stiles groaned as Lydia and Scott examined him, “Why am I on the floor? Did we win?”

“Move your toes for me,” Lydia insisted as she pulled off one shoe, “You feel this?”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Scott asked in concern, “Can you turn your head for me? Any spots?”

Derek knelt beside Stiles as well and he glared up at them irritably, “Go away. I'm fine.”

“You're not. You blacked out for a moment,” Scott told him, “Come on, Stiles. You know the rules. You lose consciousness, there's more than a pint of blood, or something is broken or torn, you go to the hospital.”

“Ugh! I don't need another hospital bill!”

“I'll drive him,” Lydia replied, helping him stand.

“Hey, I think this is my 100th concussion!” Stiles chirped, faking a grin over the pain as he swayed against Lydia, “Do I get a prize?”

“Hopefully not permanent harm,” Lydia replied, giving Malia a scowl.

“I'm sorry, Stiles,” Malia spoke softly as he was led past her.

“S'okay, babe,” Stiles waved the hand draped over Lydia, “What were we fighting about again?”

“Derek,” Lydia replied.

“Oh,” Stiles uttered, and then, “Oh _shit_. I was being an ass.”

“Yup,” Lydia replied.

“Oh shit, _I was being an ass!”_

“Yes, we've established that,” Lydia replied, “Liam! A little help with the stairs!”

Liam hurried away, but only when Derek got himself under control because it was fairly obvious to anyone watching that he was pacing towards the door and back. Malia was just standing there looking broken and Derek had put that look there by luring Stiles away.

“I didn't know, okay?” Derek told her, “I didn't know he had someone. He never said and he washed your scent off. When I told him how I felt he told me about you but by then... we never did anything, I swear.”

“You didn't have to,” Malia replied miserably, “We didn't do anything either. Bond, I mean. We didn't bond. He kept putting it off. Even before you, and then when he met you everything just went to hell and... I guess...”

Malia didn't finish her sentence, just left it hanging and then headed for the door with her head similarly down. Derek felt sick. He hadn't _meant_ to come between them, but it sounded as if Stiles wasn't emotionally invested anymore. Derek felt bad for Malia, and ashamed of his urge to go chasing after Stiles. He was a risk to Derek's heart as well as every other reservation he had previously had.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles didn't come to any more group gatherings at Derek's house. Malia did, but she was quieter than before. She sat by Derek on the couch at one point and cuddled into his side. She didn't smell like Stiles anymore, not even casually. He put an arm around her and they watched a movie on his new Netflix subscription together.

After a few weeks Derek got a call from Scott. He was at the pub for their weekly pack meeting and something had gone wrong. A wendigo had walked into the bar and started hitting on Stiles, who had stupidly decided that going into the bathroom to give him a blowjob was a thing he would do. The wendigo had _not_ been looking for that kind of head, and had pinned Stiles to a stall with the intent to eat him from the neck down to stop him from screaming. Scott had caught on in time, followed them in, beat the shit out of the Wendigo, and called the Supernatural Division of the local police force to come and arrest the bastard for trying to feed on humans that weren't donated after death.

Stiles had been... furious. Apparently he'd really thought the guy had wanted to fool around in the bathroom and Scott had 'cock blocked' him. He was in the pub making a scene and refusing to leave. The police had already been called- the regular ones this time- and they wanted someone to take the very drunk human home or they'd arrest him.

“You're the only one he'll go home with,” Scott told him, his voice pleading, “I know this sucks, but he's really stubborn and won't let us near him.”

“Can't you just pick him up?” Derek huffed.

“He's... sort of using magic to prevent that,” Scott replied, “We haven't told the police that's the issue because we don't want them calling the SD's back in. They're brutal and won't understand that Stiles may be a warlock, but he's fragile as hell. They'll hurt him if they arrest him.”

“But if the regular police try to arrest a drunk warlock _he_ will hurt _them,_ ” Derek sighed in frustration, “Fine. I'll be there.”

“Thank you,” Scott breathed in obvious relief. Before he hung up Derek heard him reassuring a loud and angry Stiles that Derek was on his way.

Derek arrived at the bar in a matter of minutes, grateful that most of the pack lived and hung out so close. Stiles was standing in the corner, wedged between an old jute box and the wall. He had his arms folded and was clearly sulking, his face flushed from all the booze he'd ingested. He didn't look like he could repel a group of supernatural creatures, but nobody was going near him and Scott's cheerful banter was all that was keeping the cops from arresting him. Derek saw that Malia wasn't there. Neither was Lydia, who probably could have thwarted his magic with intimidation alone. Derek headed right over to Stiles whose face lit up eagerly.

“Der bear!” Stiles crowed, tripping over his feet and stumbling into Derek's arms, “Heeeey, I wanna try the boys.”

“So I heard,” Derek replied flatly, “Maybe don't start with a wendigo.”

“Yeah. More like wendi _goaway,”_ Stiles laughed loudly.

“We need to get you out of here and sobered up,” Derek sighed, turning to lead him away.

“You'll get him home?” An officer asked.

“Yeah, I got him,” Derek agreed.

“You need to get me home and lubed up!” Stiles cheered loudly.

Scott looked horrified, but Derek shook his head to let him know he wasn't about to take advantage of his friend. He sighed and walked/guided Stiles out the door and into his Camero. Stiles cheered and sang to himself all the way back to Derek's house, leaning into his space and honestly risking an accident were it not for Derek's werewolf reflexes. He took Stiles back to his own loft only because he _still_ had no idea where Stiles lived and had resisted the sick urge to follow him home weeks ago because he was _not_ a creeper, damn it.

They entered with Stiles hanging off of Derek dramatically, even though he had noticed that Stiles was slowly sobering up and didn't really need as much support. He was still clumsy, but that was his normal state. Derek didn't think he was sober yet, but he was less disoriented.

(A/N: Dub con? Sort of? Maybe voyeurism?)

“This is your place,” Stiles narrowed his eyes as he peered around.

See? Less disoriented.

“I thought we were going to my place,” Stiles asked suspiciously, “Are you trying to take advantage of me?”

“You refused to give me your address. Again,” Derek replied irritably, “I'll take the couch. I don't trust you not to fall off it.”

“You're trying to get me into your bed,” Stiles accused as Derek walked the handsy young man back towards the bed.

“Yes. Yes I am,” Derek agreed, not able to fight off his smirk, “Now get into my bed, you filthy boy, you.”

Stiles giggled, “You called me filthy.”

“I'm going to call you a lot of names,” Derek told him with a solemn nod, “The most prevalent of which is _closeted_. Get in my bed, Stiles, and _go to sleep_.”

“We're gonna sleep together!” Stiles crowed, wrapping around him like a limpet.

“I'm gonna take the couch.”

“You need to touch my dick,” Stiles was struggling out of his skinny jeans, which gave Derek the chance to pick him up and drop him onto the bed, “Oh... oh my gods, I nearly came just now. Holy shit, you need to throw me on _all_ the surfaces.”

“Goodnight, Stiles,” Derek huffed, shifting pillows around in an attempt to prop him up on his side.

Stiles was less than cooperative. He'd gone from octopus to flopping fish, refusing to just lie the hell down and sleep off the last of the booze. He was horny as hell and desperate to get his hands on Derek. Derek didn't want to tell him no, despite the fact that in the back of his mind he knew that Stiles couldn't _smell_ his very eager consent, because he honestly wanted Stiles just as frantically. He also didn't want to take advantage of Stiles the way he'd so lewdly suggested. Stiles was human. Alcohol made consent impossible. So when Derek climbed into the bed and pinned him down his intentions were honorable but quite possibly the look on his face was less than innocent. Certainly he was hard as hell and growling hungrily, and Stiles responded beautifully. He arched, moaned, and made an even more enthusiastic attempt at getting out of his underwear.

Derek couldn't stop himself from looking down. Stiles' dick was slender and long, slightly curved towards his belly, with a flushed head that was damp with precum.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek moaned, as the young man reached down to grip his own cock.

Thankfully, Stiles' drunken state finally aided their sexually frustrating struggle. Instead of staving off his orgasm by gripping the base of his cock, he started jerking himself off with sloppy, needy motions. His moans became louder, faster, and Derek watched with jaw slack and every ounce of willpower he had to avoid touching him. Stiles came across his fist and went limp in the bed, a silly grin on his face that made Derek smile as well. Derek's expression was far more strained, because he had _not_ found relief at all.

Derek pushed himself upright and let his eyes rove down Stiles' body even as the young man began to snore. Derek moved to re-dress him and roll him onto his side in case he puked in the night, but then paused. The scent of Stiles' spunk was high in the air, the sight of it on his hand and his stomach where his shirt had rucked up was... inspiring. Lydia had warned that Derek's lifeline was at risk, but what if he had something to live for?

One hand strayed to Derek's abdomen, and the other moved down to greedily gather Stiles' fluids from his fingers and belly, coating two of Dereks' fingers liberally. He fled to the bathroom after snatching a bottle of lube from his nightstand. He couldn't keep Stiles, but he could...

Derek stilled, looking down at his hand and the shameful act he was about to commit. He was no longer a wolf desperate for pack, family, connections. He was rational, and this act was not. Derek put the bottle of lube down and began to scrub his hands frantically.

 _Out, damn spot_ , He thought to himself, smiling a bit at his own corny joke.

Then he heard the scream and his blood ran cold.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Stiles woke up shouting for Lydia, stumbling out of the bed and falling to the ground as he got tangled in his pants. Derek flew out of the bathroom, teeth bared and claws out with the intent to protect his mate from danger. Stiles valiantly fought the blanket off, cursing it's ancestry down to the very sheep who contributed to it's high thread count, and then got to his feet and started searching the pants around his knees.

“My phone. Where's my _phone_?”

Derek picked it up off the ground and held it out to him, “What was that sound?”

“I forgot it's been a while since Lydia last screamed,” Stiles replied, his face white as he hit a number and the call button, “She's probably still at the bar so it's nearby. Normally she's all the way on the East Side so you wouldn't hear it from your place. Hello? Lyds? Who was it?”

Lydia was weeping on the other end of the phone. Not able to form words. Derek's eyes slid back to the bathroom. Surely not? That wasn't even a _zygote_ , and Derek didn't buy into the 'life at conception' idea anyway. There was a point where it was just goo and this had _not_ gone past that point!! Unless... she was screaming for Derek and he really had needed to steal Stiles' babies to survive...

“Lydia,” Stiles soothed, “Who is there with you?”

The phone got passed and Derek got a second row seat to Scott, voice tense with sorrow, as he gave Stiles the bad news. Derek heard it, but he kept his expression blank. He didn't know how to react to such a personal disclosure with someone he had been fighting with, who had just come all over himself in a drunken fumble on his bed. Derek just... waited and stared until Stiles took a few ragged breaths, pulled his pants up, and gave Derek a broken look that tore his heart wide open.

“My dad died.”

Derek didn't think. He just pulled Stiles against himself and held him tightly as the young man began to shake and sob. Derek rubbed his back and whispered to him as he broke down in his arms.

“It's... I won't tell you it gets better, but it stings less,” Derek told him.

“I know,” Stiles choked out, “I lost my mom already.”

“That's awful,” Derek replied, then recalled a line from the Marvel movie he'd watched with Stiles recently, “My... my comfort for your loss.”

“That really _is_ a better way to say it,” Stiles gave him a watery smile.

“Yeah.”

“Nobody's sorry about someone else's loss. They want them to feel better. Comfort makes more sense.”

“Yeah, it does,” Derek replied, hand moving in slow circles across his back, “Do you... need to go anywhere? Where is he?”

“Beacon Hills,” Stiles replied, “It's where you're from too, right? You mentioned it once.”

Of course. Everything always came back to Beacon Hills. Over the next few hours Derek's relatively large gap of personal information about Stiles closed up fairly soundly. Stiles gave Derek directions to Liam's place where he was staying since Malia had kicked him out. He helped him pack a bag and they got into Stiles' jeep with Scott and Lydia to drive to Beacon Hills. Derek wasn't sure why he was on the Beacon Hills pilgrimage instead of other packmates, but apparently that was what was happening. Lydia was the only one besides Derek who hadn't had a drink so she offered to drive. Along the way they talked about Stiles' dad and told stories that let them laugh over the tears.

“Remember when he confronted me outside of a gay bar?” Stiles laughed lightly.

“ _You're not gay, Stiles. Not dressed like that,”_ Scott mimicked, laughing lightly.

“Little did he know that flannel is the clothing of bisexuals,” Stiles smirked.

“You're... dude, you're bi?” Scott asked in surprise.

“Um... yeah,” Stiles replied softly, “Derek's kind of the only person I've told.”

Lydia snorted and Scott gave him a frown over his shoulder, “Is Derek why you and Malia broke up?”

“What were you doing at a gay bar?” Derek asked quickly to get the attention off of him.

“Ugh,” Stiles groaned, “I was, like, desperate to be a police officer at sixteen. I was chasing after a kanima. I figured I had inside info because it was suspected of being a teenager, but it turns out (gasp!) the police had more intel than a hormonal teenager suspicious of all of his bullies.”

“Uh, I was there, too,” Scott pointed out.

“Yeah. Scott was the one who noticed it was a gay bar,” Stiles replied dryly.

“Hey, it wasn't _that_ obvious! Nobody was crawling all over m- wait! Is that because you're queer? Did they, like, sense it?” Scott asked eagerly.

“I dunno, probably, hey remember when he tried to get your mom to help him cheat on the diet I set him up on and she slipped him tofu burgers?” Stiles distracted quickly.

“That. Was. Epic,” Scott proclaimed.

“She had him convinced he had brain cancer because everything tasted different!” Stiles laughed, “She said it was payback for... for not trying to stay longer because... because mom dying wasn't the end of his responsibilities here...”

Stiles fell silent, breathing hard with one hand over his eyes as he fought back tears. It was a losing battle. Derek was glad Scott had called shotgun so that he could wrap his arms around Stiles and hold him in the back seat when he dissolved into a fresh round of tears. Scott passed Derek the box of tissues and he coerced Stiles into using that instead of his Henley.

It was Lydia who brought something up again, “I'm still relieved he dated my mom for a while. The prospect of us being step siblings got you over your ridiculous crush on me _very_ quickly.”

“Yeah, we make better friends,” Stiles sniffled, sitting up a bit.

“We'd kill each other as partners,” Lydia glanced back with a smile, “I'm too smart and you're too much of a smartass.”

“That's true,” Stiles' smile wobbled a bit.

“You and Derek make a much better couple,” Lydia decided.

Derek's arm pulled away from Stiles quickly and the young man shifted away on the seat.

“Uh... speaking of that... did anything happen last night?” Stiles asked, voice strained.

The entire car did that creepy thing where it went from silent to _more_ silent. Tense silence. Listening, expecting silence.

“No. Nothing happened,” Derek replied, deciding Stiles must still be a bit buzzed if he was bringing this up _in a car full of people._

“I only ask because I woke up with my pants and underwear around my ankles?” Stiles suggested, his voice a bit high, “And my dick was-”

“All I did was clean you up,” Derek put his hands up, “I rebuked your advances like the gentleman I am.”

Stiles snickered, which Derek knew his words would cause if he'd phrased them that way. Then he frowned at Derek in concern.”

“I wasn't... awful was I?” Stiles asked, “Not a '#metoo' moment, was it?”

“No,” Derek laughed lightly.

“You... sure?”

“You were just drunk and horny,” Derek rolled his eyes, “I grew up with werewolves. We're not exactly body shy or alarmed by masturbation.”

“I am,” Scott muttered.

“I'm not,” Lydia decided.

“Well, yeah,” Stiles scoffed, “Look at you!”

“Don't start,” Lydia smirked.

“I stopped a worshiping you at some point?” Stiles laughed faintly, “Time flies.”

“You're too busy worshiping someone else,” Lydia replied with a smirk over her shoulder.

“Hey, come on. One trauma at a time,” Stiles sighed.

“What's that mean?” Scott asked.

“Um, hello?” Stiles asked sharply, “My girlfriend dumped me weeks ago? I don't want to think about her _and_ my dad.”

“Hm,” Lydia replied, “I didn't mean Malia.”

“You're weird,” Stiles muttered, eyes downcast.

“Yeah, you didn't seem too upset about Malia,” Scott nodded, “Now _Derek_ on the other hand...”

“Ugh! You're both weird!” Stiles declared.

Derek shifted uncomfortably. He sure as hell wasn't going to make a move on Stiles _now_. He was mourning his father's death and on the rebound. Stiles was dangerous for Derek. He had been his salvation, but that only gave him _more_ power. Derek knew full well how dangerous power was. From Kate to the Alpha Pack, Derek had seen power destroy everything he loved and now that Stiles was no longer his employee- now that the power was all in his hands- he had every reason to fear him. He just wished he could stop _loving him_.

The time in Beacon Hills passed quickly. The first night they stayed with Scott's mother, Melissa, who was a warm and maternal woman who looked far too young to have a college age son. The boys stayed in one room and Lydia in another, which meant that Derek once again slept with Stiles wrapped in his arms. This time Scott was opposite him also clinging to Stiles. They were in a queen sized guest bed and it felt far too small but it was worth it to crowd up against Stiles again. His scent left Derek feeling soothed and relaxed, and Scott's scent had his defenses lowering. Stiles didn't seem so dangerous when he was drooling on Derek's arm and their alpha was nearby huffing and wuffing in his sleep making it all feel safe and cozy.

When Derek woke up he spent a lot of time telling himself that he could _not_ trust Stiles. Not. Nope. He had too much power over Derek, he was hurting, and Derek was an ass for wanting to steal his come a day before. Besides, the fact he was back in the town where his entire family had died had him feeling numb and withdrawn. He spent the next two days following Stiles and the others around in relative silence as he just tried to get through everything without making himself the spectacle when Stiles was the one making arrangements for his dad's cremation.

The service itself was going to be fully arranged by his deputy, as Stiles' father was apparently the sheriff. Even withdrawn Derek was grateful to learn more about his ridiculous crush. He just wasn't sure where to go with it. Stiles had lusted after him, but he also was seriously repressed. He didn't _want_ to be bisexual, and Derek didn't know if he could count him finally coming out to Scott and Lydia. He'd just lost his dad and wasn't thinking clearly.

Stiles was just a terrible, awful, no good, very bad idea.

Who was kissing Derek.

 


	15. Chapter 15

They were cleaning out Stiles' father's house and Derek had been boxing up the young man's father's things. Scott and Lydia had headed back that morning, needing to return to classes and jobs, and Stiles was talking to himself as they cleaned up, but didn't speak often to Derek who was withdrawn himself. Stiles changed his mind from day to day on whether or not he was going to sell the house or keep it. Paying taxes on it would make money tight for Stiles, and he didn't want to dip into the pack funds for something so personal that wouldn't eventually benefit them. However, it was his childhood home. On the other hand he wasn't planning on moving back to Beacon Hills. Then again... On and on it went, with Derek not even bothering to respond any longer. Then Stiles got all quiet as he stared down at a photo album. He smelled sad and lonely. Derek wanted to pull him in and hold him. However, Derek was in the midst of a long internal dialogue about how _very bad_ letting Stiles further into his heart was.

Then suddenly Stiles threw the album down onto the nearest coffee table, strode across the room, and plastered himself against Derek's body. Before he fully realized that this wasn't another crying fit Stiles' lips were on his. Derek paused, but his own need was powerful. One hand found the back of Stiles' head while the other moved to his hips. Stiles was clutching onto his shoulders, whimpering against his lips as he put a leg around Derek's waist like a movie cliche.

Derek slid his hand up that flailing leg and held it in place before Stiles fell _out_ of his arms with his awkward limbs. When he pulled him tight against himself Stiles let out a punched groan against his mouth and Derek's own legs wanted to go weak just to get him horizontal. He held fast, their bodies writhing together as Stiles tried to grind against him despite his limited range of motion while hanging off of Derek like a monkey. Stiles' tongue slid against the crease of Derek's lips and the werewolf let out his own broken sound as he opened up for him. Stiles tilted his head to pillage Derek' mouth and the wolf inside Derek growled hungrily. This human was acting far too demanding and the alpha wanted to put him in his place even as he approved of the demanding tug of long fingers in his hair.

Derek growled as he moved them to the couch, tumbling down on top of Stiles in a careful move that avoided damaging the clumsy human. Stiles arched and rolled his hips beneath Derek, his motions needy as he clutched at him. Derek had a fleeting thought about pushing up and just... leaving. Leave him to his lust alone the way Stiles had left both Derek and Malia to their love. He should. It would be smart to leave. Except for the fact that Malia _was_ out of the picture now, and Stiles was beneath him smelling like home and sadness and lust and Derek wanted to hold him desperately. So he pushed his fears aside and matched Stiles' movements, grinding their clothed erections together and bringing out that needy sound from Stiles' throat again.

Derek followed that sound, moving to lick and suck at Stiles' long neck as he panted beneath him. Derek was deeply grateful that they were wearing comfortable clothes to clean out the house, because Stiles' soft sleep pants and Derek's sweats were allowing him to feel every inch of Stiles' straining erection as he ground against him. The alpha's tongue pressed flat against his adam's apple as he began to cry out beneath him.

“Derek, Derek, Derek, _fuck_ , I'm gonna blow, lemme just... _fuck!”_

Derek growled deeply grinding down against him until Stiles went stiff beneath him, jaw slack, and the scent of come reached Derek's nose. Derek pushed up on his arms, shifting the angle to relieve the pressure from the tip of Stiles' dick. He slid his legs forward to part Stiles' further so he could rut against his ass. Derek's lips peeled back from his teeth, snarling as he tried to find the right angle to get off on while Stiles' legs stopped being remotely helpful, one of them sliding off the couch.

“Fucking help me out here, Stiles!” Derek snarled angrily, eyes flashing red in frustrated need.

“Oh! Shit! Sorry!”

Stiles fumbled down and... Well. Derek had expected him to put his leg back around him, not slide his hand down into Derek's sweats and actually wrap those sexy as fuck long fingers around his throbbing erection. Derek shifted to fuck into that hand, the bottom of his aching cock sliding along his palm.

“Awkward angle, I'm not... I've never done this before so, like, if you could tell me what to do? Is this right?” Stiles asked, face flushed as he sat up a bit.

The angle wasn't a problem. At least not for Derek, who was coming on Stiles' last word with so much force behind his long-denied release that he couldn't give Stiles the warning that he needed. Derek's load shot across his chest, neck, and- _fuck!_ \- splattered a few drops on his _chin_. Derek let out a broken cry and rolled straight into a second climax at the very sight of Stiles' new pearl necklace. Stiles had been pulling his hand away, but Derek gripped his elbow and kept him right where he was, rubbing against the palm of Stiles' hand. His second release had far less strength to it and dribbled down his wrist and arm.

Derek felt a jolt of worry the second the euphoria cleared and glanced up to see if Stiles was as disgusted as he expected him to be. Stiles was staring down at Derek's softening prick on his hand, his balls resting on Stiles' finger tips, with a look of awe and longing.

“Holy shit, you're like... stupidly big,” Stiles stammered, “Like, _umph_ , that would fill me up so freaking good. Like, hurt so good. Like taste you in my tonsils while you fill my ass, good. Shit, am I talking? I'm still talking, aren't I?”

Derek dropped down to end that particular line of babble with a hungrily kiss, chasing away his worries with a firm caress along Stiles' cheek. Except that Stiles' words surely needed to be acknowledged, so he broke the kiss a moment later to lean back and stare down at the flushed young man.

“You want that?” Derek asked, leaning back to separate their bodies a bit and give Stiles his hand back.

Stiles looked down at his hand, glanced up at Derek with wide eyes, looked down at his hand, and gave Derek a slightly wild look. Just as Derek was starting to wonder what the hell was going through his mind Stiles' hand shot up to his mouth to lick Derek's come off his wrist. A growl punched out of Derek, needy and possessive, and Stiles froze in alarm and slowly lowered his arm.

“Not... okay?”

“Stiles. Fuck. My wolf isn't okay with this.”

Stiles went pale, “I thought... you kept looking at me all day... I should have asked...”

“Not that, you ass!” Derek snapped, righting his clothes and standing up, “You broke my heart, fucked things up with your girlfriend, and then threw yourself at me _twice_ in the last few days! My wolf doesn't want _sex_ , he wants a _mate._ I'm not okay with the repeated mind fucks!”

“I'm not trying to,” Stiles whispered, looking a bit pale as he sat up. He grimaced at the mess across his face, and glanced towards the bathroom, “How about we wash up and then, like, talk? Properly talk?”

“Fine.”

Derek headed for the downstairs bathroom, a half bath that would let him freshen up. Stiles would need the shower upstairs. He listened to his footsteps, his wolf growling and pacing inside his mind. This was the most restless Derek's wolf had been since Scott had claimed him as pack. This time his wolf was looking for a mate. Stiles wasn't just drawing Derek in because he had been his comfort, his introduction to the pack, and a physical presence in his life after years of isolation. His wolf had decided that Stiles was his to keep.

That started up a new desire in Derek's body that caught him wholly off guard as he felt a sudden shift in his lower abdomen. Derek glanced in the mirror and saw that he was flushed. His pants were now as wet as Stiles', but not in the same area. Derek had dealt with this before, back when Paige had first intrigued him. A werewolf's body didn't care what sex or gender their mate was. It prepped in the same way; by preparing Derek to either create a baby or carry one. Derek was going on heat, and if he didn't square things away with Stiles he was going to have to go to the hospital and ask for a heat room. Or contact his alpha. It was a werewolf's right to ask their alpha to bed them during a heat if the party that had interested them turned out to be unwilling. He could bring the alpha's cubs into the world. It would be a shared litter since the alpha already had a mate in Kira, but Derek could live with that.

Stiles stomped down the steps just as Derek remembered that Scott was a _turned_ wolf. He was highly unlikely to agree to bedding Derek down just to give him the pups he wanted. That being said, Derek needed to know if it was an option because Stiles had been wholly unhelpful in the whole _stability_ department. So while Stiles fussed about in the living room waiting for Derek to come out of the bathroom, Derek rang up Scott.

“Hi, Derek, everything okay?” Scott asked, voice sympathetic. He probably expected him to be calling about how upset Stiles was. Stiles was in the living room whistling. He was dealing... in his own way. By using Derek as stress relief. Well. Derek had used him, too.

“Yeah, we're okay. I have an issue I need my alpha for.”

“What's that?” Scott asked, and Derek heard the subvocal grumble of Scott's wolf acknowledging a packmate's need.

“I'm going on heat,” Derek stated, letting out a slow breath, “My mate is... well... it's not a good idea.”

“Oh, wow,” Scott sounded flustered, “That's. Huh. I didn't think we went on heat without a mate?”

“We do, if our mate is... close to us. To draw them in. The problem is that mine isn't... ready for that. I am, though, and Lydia... She's said a few things about my life line that were-”

“Shit, yeah. I heard,” Scott sounded alarmed, “You think this is related to that?”

“I do, yeah,” Derek replied, “If I have cubs to keep me here, then... it doesn't matter if my mate rejects me. I'll stick around for my cubs.”

“So you're expecting Stiles to reject you,” Scott said softly, “That would explain the life-line bit. I mean, when I lost Allison... Nevermind. Stiles. Right. I was kinda worried he would reject you when I started smelling things starting up between you. I mean, I didn't even know he was bi and he was my best friend growing up. Now his dad. His totally uncharacteristic behavior with Malia. He's not in his right mind.”

“Exactly.”

“He might resent you asking him for cubs, Derek,” Scott told him, “He's not in a good place to make decisions right now. Then again, he's always been all analytical so-”

“That's why I'm not asking him,” Derek interrupted, “I'm asking you.”

“I... I have a mate,” Scott replied, voice strangled.

“I know, but alpha's do this for packmates. Obviously you'd have to clear it with your mate. She's not a wolf, so...”

“She'd never go for it,” Scott insisted, “Even if I was okay with it, which... I'm sorry, I'm just not. I'm not that kind of alpha, dude. Is there something else? Someone else? What about that Isaac guy?”

“No, it's fine,” Derek stated, “I'll go to the hospital for my heat if Stiles rejects me.”

“And then do what? Kill yourself? This is kind a big deal! What if... what if I just gave you a cup of dad juice? Would that work?”

Derek gave the mirror the disgusted look that he wanted to relay to Scott but couldn't through the phone, “Yeah, that would work.”

“Okay. I'll... I'll tell her it's necessary. I think she'll understand. I can come out there tomorrow? Will you last?”

“Yeah. I'll give the hospital your information so they know who to let in.”

“But you'll talk to Stiles, first?” Scott asked, his voice filled with concern.

“I thought you said he couldn't make this call?”

“I'm not sure you can, either,” Scott replied, “Maybe you should make this decision together instead? I mean, if he accepts you as a mate than just wear a rubber, dude. You don't need cubs _now_ just because you're on heat. You just need to bond and frankly? He's been weird since he met you. Obsessed. Like he was with Lydia. If you actually return that- in whatever way you two figure out- than maybe you really are his mate.”

Derek hung up without responding, sighing down at his phone. He gave his flushed face an angry glare and pushed the door open to head out into the living room. Stiles was wearing all new clothes, but the scent of Derek's seed on his person wasn't completely washed away. He'd kept it on, most likely intentionally since Stiles knew full well how to get rid of a scent so it didn't bother a werewolf. He was appealing to Derek, and the alpha didn't appreciate the subtle manipulation. Stiles was going through a box of records, but when Derek stepped out he put it down and gestured to the sex-scented couch. Derek sat down and Stiles sat beside him.

“I'm crazy attracted to you,” Stiles told him, “I've been pushing it back and, like, thinking unsexy thoughts back when we cuddled, and trying to make it work, but it's not going away. Malia... I mean, us ending was coming even if you hadn't shown up. So I know I look hella unloyal right now, but-”

“She didn't deserve that,” Derek spoke softly.

“No. No she didn't,” Stiles winced, “I... I've talked to her. Apologized. Told her it was me being a self-hating closeted biphobe. She's not happy but she said she'll forgive me in time. I hope she will. I would like to avoid fracturing the pack.”

“So now what?” Derek asked, “Am I what you want? Or just an experiment?”

“No, no, no,” Stiles turned in the seat to face him, “You're not an experiment. I swear you're not. I'm... I was _scared_ , Derek. I was so freaking intimidated. Not only am I breaking away from my 10 year plan, but I'm hot for an _alpha_. I wanted to give you time to heal, but it's like I can't get enough of you! When you stopped needing me I tried to walk away but I was, like, hardcore going through Derek withdrawal. I couldn't stop thinking about you. It was... gods, Derek, I'm going to be honest with you and I need you to not freak out and run, okay? Because it doesn't sound normal. At all.”

“Okay,” Derek replied softly, shifting as his body cramped again and reminded him that he had about a day to get to a hospital or a warm body before his heat became unbearable. He should probably mention that.

“I've been... geez, this is embarrassing,” Stiles blew out his air and rubbed his hands over his face, “I haven't been able to get hard with... with Malia... since we met. That first night? Like, I wasn't into you then. I was scared of you. Then I went back to my apartment and Malia and just... couldn't perform. I thought, gee, I'm a bit traumatized, right? I normally de-stress with sex! That's totally a thing! Instead I was all limp and humiliated. Malia was decent about it. I told her what happened and she wanted to go, like, murder you. I talked her out of it because, hello, alpha! So she let it go. Then I was fired from my job and just... All I could think about was being in your arms. How you smelt. Felt. The sound of you grumbling in your sleep the way alpha's do. I needed the job, yeah, but I _frantically_ wanted up in your business again. I told myself it was pity, but I can't keep that going. These past few months? No bloodflow to mah boys. Now? In your presence? Ever since you said you felt the same? I fucking _need_ you. I'm thirsty A.F. for you, Derek. Ugh, this sounds so ridiculous and lame and more sexualized than I planned on it being.”

Stiles leaned forward to rub his hands over his face and hang his head. Derek was silent for a moment, his stomach alternating between cramping and fluttering about like a teenager with their first crush. He took a deep breath and tried to find his words. He'd been talking far more than he wanted to lately and being in Beacon Hills didn't make him particularly interested in chit chat. This, however, was important.

“You grew up with werewolves,” Derek spoke softly, “Here, in Beacon Hills, where the supernatural gathers. It's not really surprising that you're effected by that, but I guess I wasn't thinking about that aspect.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles gave him a curious glance.

“Stiles, you're responding to... to the fact we're meant to be mates. When you met me your body shut Malia out because she's not the right person for you. I am. I can smell it; I can tell that you're meant to be my mate. I tried to fight it off and pretend it wasn't a fact because I was so damn damaged, but after Scott took me into your pack I couldn't ignore it anymore. I'm not on the outside anymore. I'm _here_. I'm his beta-alpha. I'm your packmate. I'm... I'm your mate.”

“Then... the lack of wood is _normal?”_ Stiles looked a baffling combination of relieved and horrified.

“For the record,” Derek forced the words out, “If we stopped interacting completely for a year or so it would go away. You don't _have_ to be with me just because your... soul or whatever... is calling to mine.”

“Dude, who in their right mind turns down a soulmate?” Stiles asked, “I, like, read _all_ the soulmate AU's on AO3.”

“I understood only half of that sentence,” Derek frowned.

“I would fucking _love_ to be yours,” Stiles reached out and took his hands firmly in his own, “Please tell me my idiotic actions haven't pushed you away? You aren't going to avoid me for a year until your wolf stops wanting me? Are you?”

“No,” Derek shook his head, “I don't even have 24 hours, to be honest.”

Stiles' eyes widened, “The life line?! Is something wrong? Are you sick or- _oh my god it's one of those kiss you things isn't it?!”_

“It's... wait, what?”

“I have to kiss you after you confess that we're mates or you'll totally wilt away and die!” Stiles blurted out, then grabbed his face and tried to bring him in. Derek automatically resisted because _what the fuck_ was he talking about? So Stiles came to him and pressed their lips together firmly for a few seconds, “Okay?!”

“Still confused, thanks.”

“Wha-?”

“I'm going on heat,” Derek told him, “My body is responding to the scent of sex between us. I'm going to need to either mate with you, go to the hospital and wait it out, or- if you plan on rejecting me- ask Scott to help me out.”

“Scott,” Stiles' face twisted up into a look that had Derek's eyebrows raising. It was a shocking approximation of a beta shift for someone without teeth or flashing eyes, “ _does not get to fucking fuck you._ ”

Derek raised an eyebrow, “He suggested a cup of, and I'm quoting him here, daddy juice. Since my body is basically asking for cubs right now.”

“The fuck he's giving you grape juice let alone daddy juice!!” Stiles shouted, jerking awkwardly to his feet and facing off against Derek, “I'm your _mate!”_

Derek's wolf howled and this time Derek couldn't hold it back. He was on his feet, head thrown back, howling out his acceptance of the mating bond that was forming between them. Stiles, to his shock, let out his own human howl. It was more of a shout, a _grito_ of sorts, to join with Derek's howl of joy. In the distance a few scattered howls answered him; strangers congratulating him on his claiming. Stiles was flushed and looking hopeful when Derek moved towards him and pulled him in for a long, hungry kiss.

“We still need to make a decision,” Derek whispered, breaking the kiss and letting their foreheads touch, “I'm fertile right now. I could be bred.”

“Oooor we could stick a plug in your ass to keep you sated and you can fuck me through your heat. I've only had toys in me in the past, but my body is _so_ ready for you.”

“I'm craving cubs and... and Lydia seems to be hinting that I need them,” Derek wrinkled up his nose.

“I'm not so sure she meant _cubs_ , just a decision. I'm guessing Lydia's concern was that I might reject you, which, _not happening_. I mean, we _could_ start a family early? I guess? It's not like you're lacking funds. Can you wait until I'm done school to have my cubs?”

He still had doubts. Of course he did, but what Stiles was saying made sense so he pushed down the worry that he wouldn't have something to keep if Stiles changed his mind. Besides, hearing him talk about Derek carrying his cubs made his stomach swoop “Yeah. I can wait.”

“Then let's visit the adult store to get what we need for your heat, okay?” Stiles soothed, eyes meeting Derek's.

It had been so long since he'd heard that soft tone from Stiles. It was like coming home. Stiles was suddenly his comfort once more, the one who had seen him through such difficult times and into the safety of a pack. Derek had missed this side of him when Stiles had buried it away to fight off his feelings.

“There you are,” Derek breathed, pressing their lips together briefly, “Gods, I've missed you.”

“Not going anywhere.”

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

“You do realize,” Derek breathed through another agonizing hot flash, “That once my heat fully hits I'm going to claim you? I won't be able to _not_ claim you, Stiles. We'll be bonded. You might not feel it as a human- although now I'm starting to seriously doubt that- but I will. You'll be it for me. No going back. Mated for life.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, letting out a breath of his own as he ran his fingers through his hair, “Yeah, I get that. Geez, you usually smell great, but you smell, like, freaking delicious right now.”

Derek chuckled, “I might draw in some other suitors. You can smell me up close, but other werewolves are going to catch me for miles. Our kind only go on heat when we find or connect to our mate or are mentally ready for cubs, so it's pretty rare and it's designed to draw in any other nearby potential mates. To make sure that we have choices.”

“Worried I'll fancy one of them more?” Stiles teased.

Derek's eyebrows lowered and Stiles' face paled.

“Okay. Yeah. I know I'm not the picture of loyalty right now, but you have to admit Malia and I were mismatched. I didn't want to hurt her, but I did. I swear we've settled it. Like I said. Talked it through. We were together for _years_ and I never wanted to bond. I want to bond with you, because you're _right_ for me. This is forever for me, too.”

Stiles reached for Derek and took his hands while sliding down to the floor on one knee. Derek raised an eyebrow, half expecting a proposal, but Stiles had apparently made the move unconsciously. He was staring up at Derek with eyes wide and pleading, wanting to fix the mess he'd made and keep Derek. Mate with him. Derek didn't exactly have a choice. A banshee's warning was hanging over his head and Stiles was _it_ for him. He could feel that in his bones even without Lydia's cryptic message.

Well, at the moment he could feel it in his ass and groin.

Which wanted Stiles in a desperate way.

Derek let out a low breath, feeling an ache in his abdomen that was quickly followed by a hardening in his pants. He shifted to adjust his erection in his pants and Stiles' eyes flew down to his crotch.

“Well...” Stiles smirked, “As long as I'm down here.”

Derek sure as hell wasn't going to refuse. If he took the edge off now than he would be calmer later, less likely to rough up Stiles too much when his body started screaming for him. He leaned back and raised an eyebrow and Stiles practically tackled his sweats. Derek lifted his hips so Stiles could slide them down along with his briefs. Stiles kneeled on his clothes, pinning his ankles in place and leered at Derek's now straining erection.

“Fuck, you're thick,” Stiles breathed, then hesitantly reached out.

He'd seemed so confident that Derek had forgotten that Stiles hadn't touched another man until Derek. He ran his hands over Derek's rod with worship in his eyes and his lips slightly parted. Derek tried to rein in his urges, but seeing Stiles look at him the way he'd fantasized was making him weak. His mind was fuzzy with desire and his teeth ached to settle the bond.

“It might turn you,” Derek whispered, trying to calm himself with talk, “The bond bite. It doesn't always happen because the intent is different, but it does sometimes.”

“I know,” Stiles breathed, “It's not what I want, but I'll deal with if it it does.”

Derek's back arched as his entrance twitched and gaped, the slick making him uncomfortable against the scratchy fabric of the couch.

“When you're done school,” Derek panted as Stiles leaned in and licked experimentally at the tip of his cock, “I'll... I'll give you cubs. Children. _Fuck._ Our own pack.”

“Scott's my alpha,” Stiles' eyes shot up to Derek's in warning, “I'm not leaving his pack and neither are you.”

Derek shook his head, but couldn't find words. Stiles had unconsciously gripped his cock and the relief was dizzying. Derek's hand moved down to show Stiles what to do, guiding his motions as the young man returned his attention to the task at hand.

“Packs have other alphas and packs within them,” Derek breathed, “The big ones do. With you by my side I can... I can find betas again. Make a new pack. Stop being alone all the damn time.”

“You aren't afraid to anymore?” Stiles asked, hope in his eyes.

Derek gave him a wicked grin and pushed his head down towards his lap. Stiles laughed but wrapped his lips around the tip of Derek's cock. He began to tentatively suck and lick, finding his way with that blatant curiosity he always showed.

“If you do this with me,” Derek panted, “If you mate with me, then I can't believe I'm still cursed. Not if I get to have you.”

“Mm,” Stiles agreed, then tried to talk around his cock, causing Derek to pull him up quickly, “So I broke your curse?”

“You are a curse!” Derek snapped irritably, shoving his head back down.

Stiles laughed, but got serious when he got his lips around Derek's shaft again. He began to suck and bob in earnest and Derek slid down in the sofa, spreading his legs as he moaned deeply in relief. Stiles' clever fingers fondled his balls, teased along his taint, and then slid through the natural lubricant to find Derek's pucker open and inviting. Stiles let out a needy grunt and began to breathe hard, bobbing his head as he sucked him off eagerly. Derek gasped and moaned as Stiles' fingers slid into Derek's ass with ease. It felt like _heaven_ , and Derek's eyes were soon rolling in his head as he shook through his release.

“Holy shit. Holy shit,” Stiles came up panting and coughing a bit, “I fucking _need_ to get up in that. Derek, you're body is, like, sucking me in!”

Derek nodded weakly and Stiles flew towards his old bedroom and came back downstairs with a box of condoms. Derek gave it the sketchy look it deserved.

“How expired are those?” He asked, deciding there was no way they weren't.

“I mean, a bit?” Stiles' voice cracked as he dropped to the ground between Derek's knees again, “I just... I mean, you want kids anyway? And you're rich? So if it happens...?”

“You aren't thinking clearly,” Derek replied dryly, but Stiles had already shoved his pants down and was sliding a condom onto his shaft.

“Please?” Stiles whimpered.

Derek's mouth twitched, “It's on you if it breaks.”

“I fucking love you!” Stiles declared, pushing at his legs desperately.

Derek laughed lightly and gripped under his knees to pull his thighs up. Stiles pressed closer and began to slide the tip of his cock between Derek's cheeks, searching for the entrance between his plush cheeks. Derek's body was at an odd angle for Stiles to be able to see his hole. His cock and balls were hiding the view.

“We could go to your bed if you-” Derek started teasing him for his inability to find his way, but then glanced up at a sudden tapping sound.

A werewolf, a complete stranger, was standing at the living room window and staring in at Derek. He had a hopeful look on his face as he tapped at the glass, gesturing to his own bared dick in obvious offer. Derek gave him the disgusted look that deserved. Hormones aside, there was no reason to go flashing his cock at people! And Derek was clearly already occupied!

“What's-?” Stiles started to turn his head, but Derek snatched him back and pressed their lips together firmly. He had to hold his legs up by himself and his muscles protested loudly, but it freed his other hand up to reach down and guide Stiles into his body, “Uhhn!”

His heat meant no need for preparation, which was a relief for Stiles since he was frantic for him. Stiles sank into him, shifting forward on his knees to get closer, and pressed as deeply into his ass as he could get. Derek felt every inch slide into him, a hard length that stroked the sensitive rim of his hole and soothed the aching need inside of him. When Derek broke the kiss to lean back Stiles' eyes were glazed and his lips were plump and damp. He looked wrecked as he gripped the underside of Derek's knees and began to slowly slide free. When he pushed back in he let out a little sound of wonder and Derek couldn't help but give him a smug grin. The werewolf in the window had left, and rightly so.

Stiles' hips were speeding up, his breath hot on Derek's collar as he pressed into him. Stiles' moans were making Derek hard again, but he had no hope of coming a fourth time in just an hour. Not until his heat fully kicked in. As it was Stiles was probably going to have to use toys on him for part of it since he wouldn't have the refractory of a werewolf even with Derek's heat scent effecting him. For the moment Derek was enjoying watching Stiles fall apart against him, his length buried deep in Derek's body. Every other stroke sliding against his sensitive prostate. Derek grunted at a harder thrust and grinned smugly as Stiles stilled with his face buried in Derek's neck and his hips pressed hard to Derek's body. Stiles shuddered through his climax, his cock pulsing inside Derek's passage.

“Oh gods,” Stiles breathed, leaning back and smacking into the coffee table, “Ow.”

Derek chuckled and sat up, back cracking from holding the position so long, “You okay?”

“Yeah. See! Condom survived!”

Derek rolled his eyes, “That we can see. That doesn't mean it doesn't have minute tears in it. Come on. Let's go to that store and get what we need to keep me sane through my heat.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

Things were getting a bit hazy for Derek by the time morning came around. They had breakfast and then took the toys they'd bought upstairs. They went up to Stiles' bedroom and Derek stumbled on his way to the bed. Stiles helped him get out of his clothes and onto his knees. He slid the big plug into Derek's hungry ass, drawing a groan from the alpha as the fullness settled him. Then Stiles left to wash himself up. He returned to _open_ himself up, which was a glorious event in Derek's life.

Stiles got down on his hands and knees on the floor of his childhood bedroom while Derek sat on the bed rocking into the plug in his ass. He slicked up those long, clever fingers and teased around his hole.

“This is gonna hurt _so_ much,” Stiles worried.

“I'll be gentle,” Derek insisted, “You said you did this with toys before?”

“Yeah, a few times. When... when Malia wasn't home,” Stiles replied softly, “Speaking of which, I'm moving in with you. It's waaaay too awkward sharing space with my ex and Liam's getting tired of my couch surfing.”

Derek growled softly and slid off the bed to crawl towards him on the floor, “You're mine.”

“Yours, yeah,” Stiles shifted as Derek pressed a kiss to one lily white ass cheek.

He mouthed along that cheek to dip his tongue in to tease Stiles' rim as he slid a finger into his body. The lube wasn't a pleasant addition to the situation, but he knew it was necessary because Derek was ready to jump on him and start humping frantically. Stiles needed to be prepped. Derek had to hold himself off. He was human and Derek had to be _gentle_.

“Oh, fuck, Der,” Stiles moaned, “Fucking... do that again. I have only _read_ about that, holy shit. They only do that to girls in pornos.”

“You watch the wrong pornos,” Derek growled, and flicked his tongue around Stiles' rim before leaning back, “Another time. Finish opening yourself up.”

“Noooo,” Stiles whined dramatically, but slid the fingers that had gone still through the slick and pushed one inside of his twitching hole.

Derek had been enjoying nipping at his ass, but he was looking forward to pounding into Stiles' slender body even more. Derek was breathing hard, his body glistening with sweat, and Stiles' body was shuddering as he slid in a second finger. Derek moaned, gripping the base of his cock to calm his ardor. Stiles gave him a glance over his shoulder, swore to himself, grabbed more lube, and began working in a third finger. Derek shivered in longing, moving closer and putting his hand on Stiles' lower back. His hips were making little aborted thrusts in longing. His dick kept twitching in clear frustration.

Finally Stiles removed his fingers and passed Derek the lube. He took it and slicked himself up quickly, eyes on the prize. Stiles shimmied back, sliding beneath Derek's body as he fell forward on his hands again. It was gorgeous to see the strong warlock submitting to him, even if Derek was progressive enough to recognize that it was a bullshit ideology. He licked at his shoulder lovingly and lined up his throbbing shaft. He was probably a good deal more steady just because they had fooled around earlier that morning. Now he was ready for the main event. Claiming his mate.

Derek slid into Stiles slowly, giving him time to adjust to his thick cock. Stiles whimpered at one point, but when Derek tried to calm himself and pull away he moved to follow. Derek wrapped an arm around him to tease Stiles' cock, hoping to keep him distracted from the pain. It seemed to work and he was soon rocking himself back on Derek's length. It soothed his worried wolf, who wanted to claim rather than harm. Pain happened, of course, but it wasn't to be desired. Finally Stlies' minute movements culminated in Derek being buried deep inside of him. The tight, hot passage quivered and Derek moaned deeply as he tried to calm himself so he could focus on being careful.

It couldn't last. Heat was upon them and Derek was ravenous for Stiles. He began to fuck into him fast and hard, gripping his hips to hold him in place while Stiles let out little shocked sounds. The scent of lust and precum filled the room, making Derek's wolf wild. He leaned over Stiles' body an sank his teeth into his shoulder to mark his mate as his own. Stiles screamed at the sharp pain, body arching in an attempt to get away. He was clutched tightly. Derek's knot was swelling, filling Stiles further and locking him in place.

“Oh _gods_ , it hurts! Derek! Please!” Stiles moaned, jerking himself off hard even as he whimpered in pain.

Derek could smell how close Stiles was, but his own body was out of his control. He was pumping Stiles full of seed, his wolf unable to understand that Stiles couldn't be bred as a human. His own orgasm only felt like a lessening of the pressure that had spent a full day building inside of him. Stiles, however, let out a loud cry of pleasure as he came across his bedspread, his body trembling and ass milking Derek's knot. The alpha growled out his pleasure, rewarding Stiles with more come.

Stiles sagged beneath him, falling forward onto his face and breathing hard. Derek wasn't sure when he'd let go with his teeth, but two orgasms had left him in a better mindset. He leaned forward as much as their connection would allow and checked Stiles' shoulder to make sure he wasn't in danger of bleeding out. It was raw and broken in some spots, but he wouldn't suffer more than a few small scars.

“You... okay?” Derek panted.

“I'm good,” Stiles breathed, “That was... wow. It hurt a lot, but your knot won't always be a thing, right?”

“No, it won't,” Derek promised, “We only pop them on the full moon or during heats. _Fuck,_ you're tight!”

Derek moaned and shuddered through another climax.

“Holy shit,” Stiles breathed, “I'm... wow, you are really getting off a lot back there.”

“Uhn,” Derek tried to focus on speaking, “It's... a bit much. It's finally starting to feel good, though.”

“It... it _didn't_ before? Was I doing something wrong?”

“No, it's just that my body is pretty focused on breeding so I'm barely feeling them. It's sort of a... wrenching feeling. Like my semen is being pulled out of my body. Now that I'm knotted to you it's so good. The knot means you'll be less raw, too. Even if it does feel like a lot right now.”

“It's not as bad as I was expecting, to be honest. It even felt good for a bit. How long will we be like this?” Stiles asked suspiciously.

“About an hour? My heat should break after that, although I might try to mount you one more time.”

“Holy shit, I've never been sexed this much in my life,” Stiles breathed as Derek moaned and rolled his hips in bliss.

For a few minutes straight Derek was nothing but sensation. Muscles convulsing. Cock throbbing. His knot taut as it kept him tied to his lover and his seed deep inside his body. Stiles' soft sounds as he tried to bring himself off again. Derek was too lost to his own heady desires to focus on if he did. Stiles was wrapped tight around his knot and Derek was shaking through one orgasm after another. He had already filled Stiles' ass so thoroughly that he could hear his cream sloshing around inside of his body with every gyration against his plush bottom. When Stiles clenched around him again Derek let out a broken cry and came until he was lightheaded and stars danced behind his eyes.

Derek could feel his seed trying to slip back out, which meant his knot was finally shrinking down. Derek leaned back, eager to see the moment when it all spilled down Stiles' thighs. His knot was small now, only about the width of his cockhead. Stiles yelped as he pulled it free and then again at the feel of the head sliding out, but at that point the fluids were already gushing. Derek watched, lips parted in awe, as Stiles' hole gaped and twitched and white slick dripped down his balls and thighs. When Stiles shivered a bit his muscles contracted and a some actually got lift, splashing down onto the floor to Derek's soft moan of pleasure.

“Fuck, that's hot,” Derek breathed, stroking his damp ass and dragging his nails along his lower back.

“I am so weirded out right now,” Stiles whined, trying to clench and succeeding only in adding to his embarrassment.

Derek smiled, “It's natural and beautiful, Stiles.”

“You're natural and beautiful,” Stiles muttered, making it sound like a complaint.

“Not much blood,” Derek soothed, “Do you feel any pain?”

“Not a lot,” Stiles replied, “I'm not... like... torn?”

“No, you're not. Did it hurt that much?” Derek worried.

“It hurt at times, but it also felt fucking amazing,” Stiles admitted, “I don't think I can walk. Can you carry me to the shower?”

“Yeah,” Derek got up on wobbly legs, waiting for his werewolf stamina to catch up before he lifted Stiles.

He took him to the bathroom and helped him wash up, hands moving gently over his mate's body. They smelled joined now, and the mark at Stiles' shoulder would be proof of their union. They were as good as married, and Stiles didn't smell changed so it was possible that he had remained human. When he helped him out and began to dry him off gently Stiles smiled up into his eyes, soothing the worries in Derek's heart.

“You're gorgeous,” Stiles smiled, “How the hell am I this lucky?”

Derek pulled him close for a long, tender kiss before answering, “Well you did break my curse, so I guess you're a good luck charm.”

“Dork.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

Stiles threw the toddler up into the air, grinning as she shrieked in excitement. He caught her and nuzzled into her belly to tickle her while she let out loud peels of laughter. Her father was quick to scold him.

“Stiles!” Scott snapped, “That hurts my ears! Besides, it's past her bedtime. Don't rile her up!”

“Oh, let her stay up. We barely ever see Stiles!” Kira pleaded.

“You do travel too much,” Derek intoned, pressing a kiss to Stiles' cheek as he moved to sit beside him at the table.

They were outside at Scott's new house in Beacon Hills with his partners and their young child. It was their housewarming party and it had run late due to Stiles not being able to even arrive until after nightfall. Kira was Lily's carrier, but she was being co-parented by Malia as well as her biological father, Scott. Stiles and Derek were her godfathers.

“I know, honey,” Stiles replied, “I hate it, too, but it's my job.”

Derek nodded, “I know. It still sucks, and once I have Lucy here I won't be able to follow you around like I have been.”

Stiles' hand moved to Derek's belly, running over the bump there with awe in his eyes. Seven months in and he was still amazed that Derek was carrying his pup. Derek smiled warmly at his mate of three years, and the newest agent at the FBI. Their relationship was full of snuggles and cuddles... and arguments and clashing personalities. Derek was just glad that they had inherited Stiles' father's house because they couldn't even choose their future daughter's name let alone manage to house hunt without devolving into outraged gasps and sarcastic commentary. While they certainly made a show of their frustrating debates, there was no love lost. Derek worshiped his brilliant mate and Stiles spent a good deal of his time off staring at Derek as if he hung the stars.

“Aww, honey, you'll have our daughter _Susan_ to keep you company,” Stiles smirked back.

“I know, but _Sarah_ won't give me the kind of comfort my mate would,” Derek replied.

“Wait, are you two still arguing about the name?” Kira laughed.

“Once we ruled out 'people who have died' it got complicated,” Stiles' face twisted up in frustration, “However, I'm sure _Linda_ will be happy with her name.”

“You're both ridiculous,” Malia decided as she sat down on Scott's other side and slid her hand through his hair.

Derek smiled fondly at his alpha and his two mates. Kira and Malia were best friends and Scott loved them both to bits. Once Stiles was out of the way Malia had gravitated towards Scott. She hadn't wanted to be a home wrecker, so she'd ignored her urge until she'd gone on heat out of sheer UST. It had been Kira who had brought Scott to her for help, creating a beautiful triad and shocking Scott with her open mindedness.

The second Stiles had been awarded his position in the FBI he had returned home with flowers, chocolates, and a declaration that it was time to make babies before Scott's cubs were too old to be _best friends forever_ with their baby. Derek told him it was probably too late, but Stiles was adamant that nearly three year gap wasn't going to stop them from being amigos.

“So when are you three going to give our baby _Francis_ another best friend forever?” Stiles asked eagerly.

"Well...” Malia smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” Derek cut in, “It was my turn. _Janet_ or _Savannah.”_

“It's not my fault you don't talk fast eno... wait, what was that last one?” Stiles paused, giving Derek a startled look.

“Savannah?” Derek asked, blinking in surprise, “Do you like Savannah?”

“What? No,” Stiles scoffed, his heartbeat clearly altering.

“You do!” Derek pointed at him angrily, “You totally like it! We're naming her Savannah!”

“I don't like it!” Stiles argued, “We agreed to name her together! We are going to pick a name we _both_ like!”

“You just _lied!”_ Derek snapped, and then growled in frustration as tears started up in his eyes, “Fucking pregnancy hormones! Fuck you and your stupid stubborn streak!”

“HA!” Stiles stood up, pointing at Derek angrily, “Me stubborn? Me lying? Malia told me that _you_ told her that you liked Annabella! And I suggested that _months_ ago!”

“Stop yelling at me! I'm pregnant!” Derek shouted angrily, grabbing his sandwich and throwing it at Stiles.

“Oh, food fight?! IT IS ON!” Stiles grabbed for his mashed potatoes but Scott wrenched it out of his grip.

“I can't take much more of this,” Scott groaned.

“You are down to two names,” Malia snapped, “Pick one or we will!”

“It's _our_ kid!” Stiles argued.

“I'm with Malia,” Scott sighed, “You're making everyone miserable. Just _pick one_. Alpha's orders.”

Stiles and Derek both glared at their alpha in silence for a moment and then Stiles pulled his hand back from Scott's grip, wiped off the mashed potatoes, and stuck it behind his back. Derek sighed and put one behind his.

“What are you two doing?” Kira asked.

“Three,” Stiles sighed.

“Seriously?” Malia scoffed.

“Two,” Derek grumbled.

“This had better work,” Scott uttered, glancing skyward.

“One,” Stiles huffed.

“It usually does,” Malia noted while Kira continued to look baffled.

“SHOOT!” Derek snarled.

Both hands flew forward and Stiles swore angrily at the sight of Derek's rock vs. his scissors.

“Don't swear around the baby!” Kira scolded, heading for their daughter and taking her back inside.

“Best two out of three?” Stiles grinned, his competitive streak shining through.

“NO!” Came three voices from both house and patio.

“Fine,” Stiles huffed, sitting down and pouting, “Savannah it is. I knew we should have played Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock.”

 


End file.
